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The Battle -OF Life, 


■A 


ROMANC 


E. 


I 





JOHN W. HATTON, 

'I 



REVISED EDITION. 


/ 


MAY 84 L88i' 


Op 


WASHI 




ST. LOUIS, MO: 

W. S. BRYAN, Publisher. 

1882. 


Copyrighted by W. S. Brya^i, i88i. 
All rights reserved. 


AS A TOKEN OF ESTEEM, 

I DEDICATE TPIIS VOLUME 
TO MY FRIEND, 

HON. SQUIRE TURNER, 


OF COLUMBIA, MO. 



THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


CHAPTER I. 


THE DRUNKARD S HOME. 




‘‘To suffer all that heart can bear ; 

To weep in silence and forbear ; 

To hope and trust and not despair — 

How sad thy lot ! 

Kind, loving, true and fair. 

Yet wedded to ^sot.” 

M other, if father comes home to-mght, 
tell him I’ve done all the chores. I don’t 
want any supper. Good night.” 

Ere Mrs. Walton had time to answer a word her 
son had disappeared from sight. She paused in her 
<work to listen to the slow, measured tread of his 
weary feet until the sound of his retreating footsteps 
died away in the distance. Every step on the stair- 
way sounded to her sensitive ear like a sob. 

She had not spoken. What could she say? 

One rapid glance at his tear-stained face was 
enough. She read in every line of his sad, hand- 
some, boyish features the painful story he was 
striving to conceal. This had been one of Sidney’s 
‘‘dark days,” as he was wont to say when questioned 
about his troubles. It was with reluctance, however, 
that he ever mentioned those painful events which 
marred many a day in his youthful calen(^r and 
stamped the date indelibly upon his memory. 
Though but fourteen years of age, he had long borne 
in silence a load of misery sufficiently heavy to crush 


6 


THE TATTLE OF LIFE. 


an older and a stouter heart; and but for the loving, ; 
patient mother who now stands listening to his foot- i 
steps as he wearily mounts the stairway; but for ! 
her whom he loves better than his own life, he had | 
despaired long ago. It was for her sake that he had ! 
borne the brunt of his father s unnatural, vindictive 
rage; and now that the storm, of domestic discord ! 
had lowered in darkest gloom over his own roof- 
tree, he dared to battle- as the veriest drudge, not 
only against want, whi^h had begun to stare him and I 
those he loved in the face, but, worst of all, against : 
the Cruelty of a drunken father. His struggle was 
not one of resistance, but of patience and self-denial. 
Not even the mother who bore him knew the length 
and depth of his humiliation and sorrow; but she 
knew enough, God knows, to make her very wretched 
for his sake, despite the noble efforts the boy was 
making to conceal his misery. 

Mrs. Walton’s first impulse was to follow hqr son to 
his room and condole with him, but wisely guessing 
the cause of his grief and appreciating his brave effort 
to conceal the painful truth, she resolved to wait until 
this storm of passionate grief had subsided ; then she 
could reason with him calmly ; now she could only 
mingle her tears with his ; could only add to his 
wretchedness her own burden of sorrow. 

She busied herself with household affairs until the 
dusk of evening had settled with painful stillness over 
her cheerless home. The' time had been when the 
still hours of evening brought a cheerful greeting — a 
reunion of loving hearts and smiling faces, — but the 
demon of strong drink had cast his dark and hateful 
shadow over this rural paradise, blighting the home- 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


7 

circle, driving peace, joy and contentment out of the 
house and out of the hearts of those within. 

The reality of Mrs. Walton’s sorrow was intensified 
by the dread of something worse — undefined, shape- 
less phantoms of evil haunted her wakeful hours and 
made her dread to close her eyes in sleep. 

The shades of evening deepened into night, ye‘^ 
the husband and father did not return. 

Mrs. Walton called the children about the supper 
table and dispensed to them their evening meal. Her 
example constrained even the youngest to observe a 
painful silence. None dared to speak of the absent 
father. The children knew, young as they were, why 
he did not eat his suppers at home ; knew, alas ! but 
too well, why their mother sat silently weeping at the 
head of the table. 

Ella, the youngest, a bright-eyed, golden-haired 
child of four summers, left her seat and crept de- 
murely to her mother’s side, and hiding her face in 
the folds of her dress, sobbed convulsively: 

“Oh, mother, dear, has brother Sidney gone to the 
tavern too? Will he come home in the night and 
beat us all, and break the furniture, and swear like 
father does? ” 

Mrs. Walton kissed the girl tenderly. It was sev- 
eral minutes before she could speak. At last she 
assured the sobbing child that her brother was a dear, 
good boy; that he loved them all very much; that 
he had not gone to the tavern ; that he hated and 
shunned such places ; he had come from his work 
tired, perhaps ill, and had gone to bed. 

After the children had retired, Mrs. Walton re- 
solved to visit her son’s room and speak a few kind 


8 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE, 


words to him if he had not fallen asleep. She felt 
that she could not retire for the night, mindful of his | 
unhappiness, without first doing all in her power to | 
comfort him. She knew his disposition well; knew | 
that his proud, noble, patient heart was almost | 
crushed by his father’s cruelty, and by the dreadful j 
thought that he was the son of a hopeless drunkard. 
She trembled for the boy’s future. She could bear 
her own misery, anything, better than this patient, 
uncomplaining wretchedness of her son. His heroic 
efforts to shield her, at the expense of his own feel- 
ings, but intensified her misery. 

She resolved to go to his room. She must speak 
to him if but to say good-night. She walked slowly 
and noiselessly up to the door of his bed-room and 
softly raised the latch. With a gentle motion she 
opened the door — but did not enter. The object of 
her solicitude had retired, but not to slumber. He 
was weeping bitterly. Between his sobs she caught 
the expression, several times repeated : 

He will never beat me again; never 

Mrs. Walton turned silently away and left him 
alone with his sorrow. 


For many long, weary hours Mrs. Walton sat at 
the window which opened on the road leading to the 
village tavern, gazing out into the darkness ; watch- 
ing, dreading the approach of her husband. In the 
bitterness of her soul she bowed her head against the , 
window sill and prayed and wept by turns until the 
clock on the mantel struck twelve. She was about 
to retire, when, suddenly, a glimmer of light fell upon 
the ground opposite her own window and under that 
of Sidney’s room. 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


9 


Was he ill? She would go and see. 

She crept silently up the long, narrow stairway 
and groped her way through the unlighted hall until 
she at last reached the small bed-room occupied by 
her son. She gently pushed the door ajar. Sidney 
was sitting at a small table near the window, looking 
as calm and rigid as a marble statue. He held in 
his hand a pen, and before him lay a sheet of paper. — 
Had the mother known the contents of that letter 
she would not have left him alone to consummate 
his desperate purpose. ^ 

He finished the message with much effort, not 
being used to writing, but was plain enough. 
When finished, he placed it under his pillow, where 
his mother would find it when she made his bed. 
He tried not to think of her anguish, of the bitter 
tears she would shed, of the terrible feeling of 
despair that would take possession of her heart the 
moment she read this letter and realized the painful 
truth she had dreaded so long in anxious, prayerful 
silence. 

The letter told of the desperate resolution of a 
mere child, grown old from hard usage; of a kind, 
gentle, compassionate nature, made suddenly hard, 
almost desperate, by adversity; of a boy, tender and 
chiH-like, yet possessing sufficient nerve and resolu- 
tion to battle with the whole world for the right to 
live; for the right to be something, anything, rather 
than a beast of burden and the slave of caprice. 

The letter would* tell her all this. It read as 
follows : 

Dear Mother : When you have read this letter I will be far away 
from the dear old nome. I cannot longer submit to the treatment I 
am receiving. I did not tell you, but father beat me with a horsewhip 


10 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


yesterday, because I let the team start as he was getting into the 
wagom He was thrown to the ground, because he was drunk, but I 
could not help it. He beat me till I fainted and fell under the horses’ 
feet. When I came to myself, he seemed frightened. He said he was 
very sorry, and spoke kindly to me; said he would never beat me 
again ; but, mother, he went right off to the tavern, and I know he got 
drunk again, and when he is drinking he has no mercy. Now, dear 
mother, I do not want you to be angry with me, nor sorry for my 
going away. I will not forget you — never ! and you and my brother 
and sisters shall never want for anything that I can earn by my labor. ^ 
God bless you all ! Good-bye ! Sidney Walton. 

Packing such articles as he stood most in need of 
in an old satchel, he quietly descended the stairway 
and passed out of the house and yard unobserved 
by his mother. He followed the railroad track to 
the" depot, which was situated not far from the vil- 
lage tavern. 

A train was due in a short time, going west, upon 
which he meant to take passage. He had money 
enough to carry him a^ hundred miles or more. 
Then he would leave the cars and strike across the 
country until he could find work. 

The lights in the houses were out and darkness 
reigned over the entire village. 

The sound of revelry had ceased at the village 
tavern, and the drunken ones had started their 
several ways for home, some to fall by the wayside, 
others to stagger in on their half-starved and terror- 
stricken households. 

The boy was calm and resolute. On entering his 
home the evening before, he was weak and faint 
from the severe flogging he ha^J received, but now 
that he had resolved to rebel against his fathers 
merciless tyranny, he felt strong, fresh and vigorous, 
indeed almost happy. 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


II 


The roar of the westward-bound train was thun- 
dering a few miles in the rear, and drawing rapidly 
nearer. Sidney walked briskly on in the direction 
of the depot, looking back occasionally to see if the 
train was yet in sight. When near the station, the 
glare of the headlight warned him that it was dan- 
gerous to remain longer on the track. 

Just as'he was in the act of stepping from before 
the train, he saw a man lying asleep on the road, his 
head resting upon the iron rail. 

He sprang to his rescue, and yelled at the top of 
his voice, but the man did not move so much as a 
muscle of the body. Was he dead or drunk ? He 
stooped to take hold of the man, when the light of 
the engine fell full upon his red, swollen face. 

It was his father ! 

The engineer whistled. “ down brakes,” but too 
late to check the train. 


CHAPTteR II. 

THE WALTONS. 


“ He served a God of judgments, not of mercy.” 

WaPT. AMOS WALTON, the father of .Sidney, 
came of good stock, but his father was a Pu- 
ritan of the most austere and bigoted piety. 
He left his New England home-and came to Ohio in 
the dawn of manhood, bringing with him several 
thousand dollars, with which he purchased a lar^e 


.12 / THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 

body ,of excellent land near what was afterwards 
knows as the village of Mt. Astar. 

In Walton’s neighborhood lived a Virginia family 
named Hamilton, and as there were no rowdies in 
his household, young Walton became a frequent 
visitor. His cold, prudential heart was at last 
warmed into something like the sentiment of love 
when he became acquainted with Miss Dora, the 
charrping daughter of the proud old Virginian. 

While Dora could hardly realize that she loved 
Amos Walton, she yet felt safe, perfectly safe, in 
committing herself to his care for life. Her parents 
were delighted with the match ; not that they par- 
ticularly liked Walton, but on account of his wealth, 
which has its charm as well as its value among all 
classes, but most of all among the poor, who are 
ambitious to reach a higher plain of existence. 

D ora Hamilton, like a true woman, did all in her 
power to make her husband happy. He was good 
and true to her; why should she care what the world 
thought or said of him? They prospered steadily as 
the wild country around them filled with people, and 
their own lands advanced in value. 

Deacon Walton, as he was usually called, was not 
a miser. He believed in enjoying the world, in his 
peculiar way, and spared neither pains nor money in 
building, ornamenting and otherwise improving his 
beautiful home. 

People, passing along the public highway, which ^ 
ran through his magnificent farm, naturally imagined 
the owner to be a happy man, for we are ever prone 
to consider wealth a prerequisite to contentment and 
happiness. 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE, 


13 


Could they have known the truth, their envy had 
changed to a feeling of pity; they would have 
thanked God for making them less rich, but doubt- 
less far more happy. 

The deacon’s son, and only child, was the worst 
boy in the settlement. 

Possessing his mother’s ardent temperament, and 
his father’s stubborn will, the lad soon passed be- 
yond paternal influence and control. 

The neighbors generally forgave young Walton, 
in deference to his kind and generous nature, but 
such mercy he never found at the hands of his grim 
old Puritan father. Repentance, even prayers for 
mercy, were but mockery in the sight of Deacon 
Walton, unless accompanied by a change of life. 

The boy was willing to obey his father in most 
things, for he honored him — would have loved him 
if possible — but there could be no compromise, no 
such thing as temporizing, no half-way grounds up- 
on which they could meet. The old man had no 
conditions to offer. The boy must surrender — 7nust 
submit. To Amos, such conditions were oppressive, 
and the stubborn youth rebelled. 

As a last resort, to break up the boy’s evil asso- 
ciations, it was agreed between Deacon Walton* 
and his wife, and the village pastor, to send Amos 
to Yale College — provided the boy would go — for 
he must be “ the party of the second part,” else the 
business would likely fall to the ground. 

The young hopeful refused to go. 

The deacon felt that this was a fearful crisis in the 
fate of his son. If he yielded now, he must relin- 
quish his authority forever, and allow the boy to 


14 


THE BATTLE OF LITE, 


take his course downward to perdition. He resolved 
to settle the matter, once for all, then and there. 

He had tried coaxing, but to no purpose ; the boy 
was defiant. He would now, for the first time, re- 
sort to harsh treatment. Come what would, the 
conditions could be no worse — he would do his 
duty. 

One morning, as Amos was getting ready to ride 
out on his usual daily round of dissipation, his father 
called 'him into his study, and said, in a voice of 
stern determination: 

“Amos, you have this day to choose between be- 
coming a homeless, friendless outcast, or remaining 
my child, and heir to all that I possess. How long 
will it take you to decide the matter? ” 

For several minutes the boy sat, with face averted, 
stroking his boots with a riding whip, but not a word 
escaped his pale, trembling lips. The deacon sat 
just as calm, just as resolute, his eyes fixed intently 
upon his son. He saw with terrible interest the 
fierce struggle that was raging in the mind and heart 
of his handsome, wayward boy. 

At last Amos rose slowly from his seat, and, with- 
out saying a word, quietly left the room. 

The deacon, overwhelmed with grief, fell upon his 
knees and asked God to give him strength to execute 
his decree of banishment against his rebellious son. 
“ For, as I live, 0 God, he shall go! ” 

But the prayer of the aged Christian was answered 
in a different way, and to the delight of his devout 
and loving heart. He had gained the victory, though 
he knew it not — at least not then. 

Amos went directly to his mother, and with much 
feeling said : 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


15 


Mother, please say to father that I yield uncon- 
ditionally to his wishes. I would have said the same 
to him had it not been for the severity of his manner. 
He talked to me like a judge is supposed to talk to a 
criminal awaiting sentence of death.” 

“Oh Amos!” said Mrs. Walton, embracing and 
kissing her son as fondly as in years past : “ you have 
always misjudged your father ! He has a kind, good 
heart; and he loves you, Amos, as he loves his own 
soul! You have never understood each other. He 
blames you for your faults ; you blame him for his 
virtues. It is your own fault, my dear boy, that you 
are not happy.” 

The thought of separation softened the hearts of 
both father and son, and they parted in tears. The 
deacon’s blessing, stifled, tremulous with tender emo- 
tion, was worth all the sermons he had ever preached 
to his erring boy. The better nature of Amos was 
thoroughly aroused, and he resolved to acquit him- 
self like a man, his last words, spoken in tears, were : 
“Father, God willing, I shall make the man you 
would have me be !” The deacon’s amen was not 
spoken, it was only a sob. How strangely, how un- 
kindly, they had acted, one towards the other. 

True to his promise, the boy did well at college. 
He learned rapidly, and all predicted a bright and 
prosperous future for the tall, handsome, Ohio lad, 
whose only serious fault was a violent temper, which 
he could not always control. This fault was even 
greater than his most intimate acquaintances sup- 
posed ; it was destined to prove the bane, the curse 
of his life; the evil genius that must ever dog his 
footsteps. Here, within the hallowed precincts of 


i6 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


this grand old college, where all animosities and evil 
passions are supposed to give way to the desire for 
knowledge, this devilish passion asserted its power 
and crushed the noble spirit of this bright, brave boy 
and sent him back to his Ohfo home a criminal, with- 
out the power to rise above that haunting sense of 
guilt which must fetter his conscience for years to 
come. 

He came back to Mt. Astar changed i^i manner 
from a wild, frolicsome boy, to a sedate and melan- 
cholly man — if not in years, at least in looks. It was 
not the period of absence that had worked this change. 
Three years work wonders in the appearance of a 
boy, but Amos Walton had experienced more and 
greater things than are usually crowded into the. 
school life of the average student. 

The deacon sought in vain to learn the real cause 
of his son’s return. It was best for the good old man 
that he should never know the terrible truth, for a 
virtuous life like his deserved a peaceful death. 

Amos had not been at home long until he began 
to frequent the village tavern, and would return home 
of nights intoxicated. The father, who had indulged 
many bright hopes of late, was now plunged into the 
very depths of despair. He implored Amos to re- 
turn to college ; if not to Yale, to any other he might 
choose. Amos declared, with bittei; emphasis, that 
his school days were over. 

Would he go into business? 

Cheerfully. 

So it was arranged between Deacon Walton and 
the president of The Pittsburg and New Orleans 
Steamboat and Barge Association — in which company 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE, 


7 


the elder Walton owned considerable stock — that 
Amos should take a clerkship on one of the steamers. 

The young man was delighted with his position, 
^and soon won the esteem and confidence of the entire 
company. 

In less than a year the captain of the steamer died 
and young Walton was given command of the boat. 
His vessel became the favorite of the traveling pub- 
lic, mainly through the politeness and kind attentions 
of the genial young captain, who seemed devoted, 
heart and soul, to his business. In a few years he 
commanded the largest salary in his line of business, 
and had he been satisfied with such good fortune, all 
might have been well; but the demon of unrest tor- 
mented him day and night. He longed for a change. 
He wanted to command his own vessel. His father, 
while protesting against such an investment, never- 
theless assisted his son in buying a large, new 
steamer. 

For a while, young Walton prospered. When all 
seemed bright and cheering, the young man cast a 
longing eye upon the beautiful city of Louisville, 
Kentucky, resolving to make his home there when 
weary of the river. He accordingly invested his sur- 
plus funds in houses, and soon became well and 
favorably known to the business men of that city. 
But all his pHns, all his bright hopes of the future, 
were suddenly shattered. His boat took fire while 
discharging her cargo at New Orleans, and was to- 
tally consumed. The vessel was not insured, and 
Capt. Walton found, when his debts were all paid, 
that he was almost a bankrupt. 

He returned to, Louisville, discouraged, almost 
I 


i8 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


heartbroken, and soon fell into his old habits of dis- 
sipation ; fell lower than ever before. 

One hot summer’s day, after drinking to excess 
during the forenoon, he started to his boarding 
house, reeling and blindly drunk. The heat and the 
liquor together overcame him, and he sank down in 
the shade of a house and fell asleep. The shadow 
of the building soon shifted, and the hot sun beamed 
full in his drunken, bloated face. While thus ex- 
posed to the rays of the sun, to the stings of flies 
and mosquitos, and to the jeers of the passing rab- 
ble, a beautiful young lady — one to whom he had 
been very kind and attentive a few months previous, 
as she was returning home on his boat from Mem- 
phis — passed that way. She saw and recognized the 
Captain, and her kind, womanly heart was moved to 
pity. She felt that she ought to do something to 
relieve him ; but what could she do, unattended as 
she was and no one near ? 

Stooping, she gently spread her handkerchief 
over his face and walked on, feeling very sad for his 
sake, for she believed in her heart that Walton was 
a gentleman, because she did not wish to think other- 
wise of the man she had lately learned to admire, and 
but for his besetting sin, might have learned to love. 

When Capt. Walton awoke, he was surprised to 
find a lace handkerchief of beautiful workmanship 
over his face. With a blush of shame, he thrust it 
into his pocket, wondering how and by whom it was 
placed over his red, swollen, ugly face. He almost 
wished, in the bitterness of his soul, that such an act 
of kindness had not happened to one so unworthy 
as he felt himself to be. When sober, he examined 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


19 


the handkerchief more closely. In one corner he 
discovered a name. He knew the owner, and from 
that moment his admiration for Alice Hensley deep- 
ened into a feeling of earnest, sincere love. He re- 
solved to win her heart and hand, and to accomplish 
this end gave up his bad habits, and became what 
nature intended he should be, a gentleman. It was 
a long time, however, before he ventured to call on 
Miss Hensley. He sought the acquaintance of her 
male friends and relatives, upon whom he made as 
favorable an impression as possible, and at last, find- 
ing the coast clear, he called on the young lady and 
renewed their former acquaintance. He found her 
all that his heart desired, and she was delighted with 
him ; believing, with a woman’s faith, that his reform- 
ation was real. When he proposed, she accepted 
him on one condition : He must forswear strong 
drink. He cheerfully complied, believing in his 
heart that he would prove ever true to his pledge. 

Several years after the marriage of Amos Walton 
and Miss Hensley — his parents in the meantime hav- 
ing passed to their reward in the spirit land — the 
Captain returned to the old home and assumed the 
management of the large estate left him by his 
father. They found the farm in excellent condition, 
and for several years both were as happy as heart 
could wish. A beautiful boy and girl had already 
added their angelic presence to the home-circle, 
uniting in closer bonds of* love the lives, hopes and 
aims of the happy and contented parents. 


20 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE, 


CHAPTER III. 


DEN. piper’s den 


Never a soul in safety enters, 

And none emerge unsoiled by sin.” 



ILGRIM’S REST.” Did it ever occur to 


I you, kind reader, how beautiful and poetic 
are many of the names written over the 
doorways that lead to the abodes of sin? • - 

“ Pilgrim’s Rest ! ” How true the adage : There’s 
nothing in a name.” 

Many strangers, weary and travel-worn, passed the 
portals of Pilgrim’s Rest to find it anything else but a 
haven of quiet. 

* It was a tavern, saloon and gambling hell combined. 
In the back-yard, enclosed by lofty palings, was a 
cock-pit, where the sporting gentry met to gamble 
on the pluck and endurance of their favorite chickens. 

Den. Piper, the proprietor of this establishment, was 
old in years, and in rascality and cunning, but brisk 
in motion, and as jolly over a bottle as a man in the 
prime of life. He generally held the winning cards 
in a game of poker, and when it came to fighting, he 
was as good as the best. 

His advent into the settlement, sorfie twenty-five 
or thirty years previous, was shrouded in mystery. 
He was clothed in rags and foot-sore from long trav- 
eling. His poverty was so apparent that none doubt- 
ed it. He applied to the elder Walton for work and 
was kindly taken in, but more through sympathy 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


21 


than necessity, for the deacon did not need his work, 
and had he needed it ever so much, Piper could not 
have supplied the want, for he was utterly ignorant 
of farm work; but he remained with’ his kind bene- 
factor for several months, doing such odd chores as 
came best to his hands. 

His employer thought him a kind-hearted, ignor- 
ant fellow, and treated him as such ; but the day 
came when he keenly regretted his kindness to this 
man ; repented that he had ever bestowed upon him 
so much as a morsel of bread or a kind word. 

It was not until Piper had decoyed Amos, then a 
youth of tender years, from home to attend a horse 
race in the neighborhood, where he induced the lad 
to drink deeply and bet lavishly, that the father wa"^ 
convinced of the mkn’s infamy. Piper had over- 
reached himself. He had plied the bottle too freely. 
When they returned home, the boy was helpless. 
Piper had to carry him in his arms and put him to 
bed, where he lay for hours in a drunken, deathly 
stupor. 

When Mr. Walton called Piper into his room to in- , 
terrogate him about Amos, he discovered that he, 
too, was very drunk. The whole truth instantly 
flashed into the deacon’s mind, and losing his temper, 
he struck Piper a severe blow in the face which felled 
him to the ground. Before the vile reprobate had 
time to resist, he was hustled out of the house by 
several trusty servants who had been attracted into 
the room by the loud and angry oaths of the drunken 
bully. 

Piper left the place swearing vengeance against the 
proprietor and his, and from that day forth, he be- 


22 


THE BATTLE OE LIFE. 


came the evil angel of young Walton. 'The old man, 
safe in his honor and strong in his integrity, was above 
the wiles of this bad man, but not so the son. Piper 
knew the boy’s disposition thoroughly, and at once 
set about to compass his ruin. He had a double 
motive in this — revenge and profit. 

It was not the easiest thing in the world to wreck 
and ruin this honest, generous, kind-hearted, though 
wayward boy; but an untoward circumstance at last 
threw him completely into Piper’s power, and the vil- 
lain used this power with cruel vengeance. 

When Capt. Amos Walton awoke from his drunken 
slumb,er, he found himself at home in bed. 

It was broad daylight, and deathly stillness per- 
vaded the room.. 

As he lay there, with his face to the wall, ashamed 
almost to open his eyes to the light of day, he 
thought : “ What a strange dream I had last night.” 

He had fallen asleep somewhere, he knew not 
where, when, all of a sudden, some one had violently 
seized him by the collar, and turning him over and 
over, had hurled him down a steep ernbankment, 
just as a train of cars was passing. Then a great 
crowd had gathered about him. They were evi- 
dently much excited. Some were running to and 
fro with lanterns in their hands. He thought they 
placed him in a wagon, along with some one else — 
a mere boy it seemed — not jarger than Sidney. As 
they placed the boy in the wagon, he heard one of 
the men say : “ Poor fellow ! he’s badly hurt.’^ 

After rubbing his eyes several times, to satisfy 
himself if asleep or awake, he suddenly turned his 
face from the wall. • 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


23 


The first object that met his sight, and nearly froze 
the blood in his veins, was the bleeding, mangled 
form of his son, lying upon a bed in an opposite 
corner of the room — pale as death, but perfectly 
rational — gazing from his large, bright eyes straight 
into his own. 

His dream was a terrible reality ! 

He sprang from his bed with an exclamation of 
horror and started towards his son, but Mrs. Walton 
stepped quickly between them. With a motion of 
silence, she said : “ Follow me ! ” 

She led the way into another room. Walton fol- 
lowed, mechanically, trembling in every limb. 

Alice, for God’s sake, tell me what has hap- 
pened ? ” said he, seizing her hand imploringly ; 
**how and when did this happen ? ” 

“ I don’t know how it happened, Amos, but Sidney 
saved your life last night at the risk of losing his 
own. The poor child is terribly bruised and man- 
gled, and the doctor fears he may die of his injuries ! 
Oh, Amos ! it nearly breaks my poor heart to think 
that you have brought this great trouble on us all by 
being drunk ! You were asleep on the railroad track ! 
Sidney had gone out to look for you, I suppose ! — 
Oh, if he should die, what will I do ? What shall I 
do!” and Mrs. Walton wrung her hands and wept 
as though her heart would break. 

Walton fell upon his knees, and taking both her 
hands in his, said, as the tears coursed swiftly down 
his face : 

Alice, I swear in the sight of high heaven, God 
being my witness, that from this day forth, as long 
as life shall last, I will never drink another drop of 
intoxicating liquor 1 ” 


24 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


“ May God help you, Amos, to keep this vow ! ” 
She could say no more. Her tears were more elo- j 
quent than words. | 

Walton seemed like one bereft of reason. Ere his | 
wife could prevent him, he had torn from her grasp 
and had thrown himself prq^trate at the bedside of 
his son. His grief was terrible to behold. He im- 
plored his son’s forgiveness in the most pathetic Ian- " 
guage. He kissed his face and hands, repeating the 
solemn vow he had made to his heart-broken wife. 

Sidney did not speak. There is at times a power 
in silence that no words can equal. Stretching forth 
his well hand — the other arm was broken — he gently 
stroked his father’s hair, which fell in long, dark 
cprls upon his pillow. He forgave him all, as he had 
done a thousand times before. 

When his father and mother had both left the 
room, Sidney called to his sister, and said : 

“ Ella, dear, go up to my room and look under the 
pillow and get me the letter I left there last night.” 

The child flew on feet of love. Returning in a 
moment, she held the letter at arms length in both 
her chubby hands : 

“ Here it is, brother, dear, here’s the letter ! ” 

‘*Now get me a match, please.” 

‘‘ Here it is, brother ; here’s a match ! Aint I 
good?” 

“You are a dear, good girl,” said the boy, kissing 
the little hand that reached him the match. Strik- 
ing it on the head-board of the bed, he applied the 
light to the open letter which soon lay in ashes upon . 
the floor. His secret was safe — no one knew of his 
attempted flight. 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


25 


Notwithstanding the pain he endured, Sidney was 
very happy ; indeed he could not remember a hap- 
pier day than this. The dark clouds that had of late 
obscured every ray of light from view were now 
rifted, and the sunlight of hope beamed in radiant 
splendor full upon his prostrate form. 


CHAPTER IV. 


BLASTED HOPES. 


“So ^oung, so brave, so fair, and yet 
So soon to taste the feast of death !” 

(^pAuVALL MANSION, situated about a mile from 
jLJ the Mississippi river, but in plain view of it, 
was conceded to be the most elegant private 
residence in Northern Louisiana. 

The plantation extended to the levee and along the 
river front for several miles. River men pointed to 
it in passing as one of the most interesting objects 
between Memphis and New Orleans. 

The mansion was approached by a magnificent 
shell road, lined on either side with rose hedges, 
wLich gradually diverged td'the right and left, as you 
neared the mansion, opening out and forming the arc 
of a circular court-yard of several acres, ornamented 
with shrubbery, fountains and statuary. The build- 
ing was a three-story brick, with abroad veranda on 
three sides and a portico in front, resting upon beau- 
tifully wrought columns. The interior of the mansion 


26 


THE BATLE OF LIFE. 

.1 

was in perfect harmony with its external beauty and - 
finish. It was, inside and out, a real gem of art. . 

Col. Edward Duvall, the proprietor of this planta- 
tion, was an old man. He had completed his three* 
score and ten years, and was nearly ready to go hence. 

We now behold him reclining at ease in a cushion- | 
ed arm-chair, near his favorite window, which looks 
out upon the great river, dotted here and there with 
steamboats and barges, moving up and down the 
ceaseless current of this great artery of commerce, 
presenting at all times an animated picture of thrift - 
and energy. 

Col. Duvall had in early manhood led an active 
business life, but for many years he had left the man- 
agement of his affairs solely to others, striving as 
much as possible to forget the blighting cares of this 
world ; to sleep the hours away as Time wafted him 
speedily along the down-grade of life. Being some- 
what of a fatalist, and having given himself, soul and 
body, into the hands of destiny, he calmly awaited 
his end, believing that he was ready to enter the un- 
explored realms of futurity whenever the angel of 
death should announce the station that marks the 
confines of this and the life to come. Thus he lived, 
longing, wishing only for rest. 

There was one trouble, however, one absorbing 
sorrow, he would not allow himself to ignore or for- 
get ; one thorn he cherished, though it rankled and 
festered in his flesh. 

Across the room from where he is sitting are three 
pictures, all large as life and executed in the highest 
style of art. The one on the right, represents a man 
in the prime of life ; handsome, fresh and buoyant. 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE, 


27 


seeming the very embodiment of manly vigor, health 
and happiness. On the left, hangs the picture of a 
woman, no longer young, but still very beautiful ; a 
fit companion-piece of the one just described, alike 
radiant with evidences of health and happiness. In 
the center, we behold the picture of a boy, fourteen 
or fifteen years old, dressed in the court costume of 
boys of his age during the reign of Louis XIV — a 
whim of the boy’s, encouraged by the artist, as it im- 
proved the effect and heightened the beauty of the 
picture. 

The most casual observer could easily detect the 
relationship existing between the three. In the por- 
trait of the boy, we see harmoniously blended the 
most prominent features of the other two — he was 
their son — their only child — the hope- and pride of 
Duvall. 

No wonder the old man’s eyes are dimmed with 
tears when he looks upon this bright presentment of 
himself; of one who was to have perpetuated the 
name and fame of a proud and noble family; for in 
this boy had perished hope, ambition and pleasure; 
all that makes life desirable to the worldly-minded ; 
all that could rob death of its keenest sting. 

Col. Duvall was crushed by a double sorrow, and 
never recovered from the blow. 

Upon the threshold of young manhood, his hand- 
some boy was called to pass through “The Valley 
of the Shadow of Death,” and Mrs. Duvall soon fol- 
lowed, dying of a broken heart. 

For many years Col. Duvall lived alone on his 
plantation, seeing no one but his servants and over- 
seers; nursing his sorrow and devoting his time and 


28 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


fortune to the consummation of but one object, 
which, in the course of time, took full possession of his 
mind and heart, becoming the ruling passion of his 
life. 

He honestly felt that he could never again look 
upon the face of woman and feel the passion of love 
burning in his heart as when he wooed and won the 
woman he had lost, and so he lived and thought, 
and planned, until age and sorrow had left deep fur- 
rows in his face, and his hair had turned from glossy 
black to silvery grayo But when nearly sixty years 
of age, being still in pursuit of the pet object of his 
life, he was brought face to face with a lady more 
than twenty years younger than himself, and strange 
to say, in hearty sympathy with his plans, indeed, 
working to accomplish the very same object. 

This sad, almost heart-broken, old man was liter- 
ally starving for human sympathy, yet it was not 
until he met this woman that he fully realized how 
cheerless and wretched his life had been since the 
earth had closed over his treasures. 

Destiny plays fantastic tricks in shaping the lives 
of men and women. Cupid often goes on what 
seems to all the world a fool’s errand, but the blind 
archer brings down the game, and a^gaping, gossip- 
ing world soon ceases to wonder in contemplating 
the admirable fitness of what at first seemed to them 
so absurd as to be utterly impossible. Had Col. 
Duvall not met Miss Charlotte Irwin, he had cer- 
tainly never married again; and had she not met 
Col. Duvall, it is equally certain that she would have 
remained single to the end of her life. Their union 
was a happy one, so far as either was capable of 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


29 


happiness. Both had previously suffered all that 
human nature could well bear, yet neither expected 
nor desired a surcease of this sorrow which they 
regarded as sacred, almost holy. They walked 
together in the same shadows, and their love was 
none the less sincere, because shrouded in gloom. 
Their married life was made happier by the birth 
of a daughter. This child was much loved and 
fondly petted by her aged father, but with all her 
loveliness, she never filled the void in Col. Duvall’s 
heart, nor supplied the place of the lost boy whose 
early death wrecked all the bright, ambitious hopes 
of this proud old man. 


CHAPTER V. 


PIPER LOSES A CUSTOMER. 


When thou doth hear I am as I have been, approach me ; and 
thou shalt be as thou wast, the tutor and the feeder of my niots ; till 
then, adieu!” 

^ ^ OOD morning, Doctor.” 

\jr “The same to you, Denis.” 

“ What will you have this morning? ” 

“ Brandy and water, please.” 

Dr. Preston was no stranger. He was well known 
to Denis Piper and the jolly tipplers who patronized 
the Rest. He was a man of fine culture, and a jovial, 
good-hearted gentleman. Nature had been prodigal 
in her gifts to this man, having endowed him with 


30 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE, 


superior intelligence and a face and form rarely i 
equalled for^strength, grace and beauty, yet strong i 
drink had given an unnatural redness to the fea- 
tures, and that slow, sluggish movement of the body 
that comes with stealthy tread as the inebriate grows 
in size and weight from excessive drink. The doc- 
tor was almost a slave to strong drink. No one ever 
saw him very drunk, yet the neighbors knew that he 
was a steady drinker, and many predicted that the 
bottle would ultimately prove his ruin. He was the 
most respectable customer at Piper’s bar, and was i 
treated with marked consideration and respect. | 

After leisurely sipping his brandy and water, the 
doctor turned to go, when Piper called to him : 

‘‘How is Walton’s boy? I heard he was badly 
‘stove up’ last night.” 

“ The boy is badly, very badly hurt. I doubt if 
he recovers. His external injuries are not serious^ 
but I fear he is injured internally. I can’t determine 
just yet; will know more about it to-morrow. I feel 
very anxious about the boy, for he is a noble little 
fellow. I would be devilish proud of such a boy as 
Sidney; I would, indeed. How strange it is that 
Walton should mistreat that boy as he does — as I 
am told he does — of course I know nothing at all j 
about it — don’t wish to know — none of my business I 
to know — but the boy is a good one. Why, he has 
suffered since last night enough to kill an ox, yet he 
is as patient as a lamb. His hip was dislocated-— 
bruised and terribly swollen. I expected serious 
trouble — never dreamed that he would submit to such 
a painful operation without compulsion. He said he 
thought he could bear it, and he did, too, without a 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE, 


31 


murmur. When I had set the dislocated limb, he 
looked up into my, face — I shall never forget that 
look as long as I live — and said, in his peculiarly 
sweet, artless tone of voice : * You Won’t have to do 
that any more, will you, doctor?’ Oh he is a splen- 
did little fellow ! Never before have I felt such in- 
tense interest in a patient as I feel for Sidney Walton. 
The boy shall not die if I can prevent it. Denis, give 
me another glass of brandy, please.” 

After drinking his second glass. Dr. Preston seated 
himself in the center of the room, and placing both 
his feet upon a small table, leisurely and lazily sur- 
veyed the indolent, gaping crowd, none of whom 
had yet spoken a word. They had all heard of the 
accident, and were talking about it when the doctor 
entered. They had listened with profound attention 
to the conversation between him and the landlord, 
and were still anxiously waiting to hear more. 

The doctor smoked his pipe in sullen silence. 

Piper, who always catered to the wishes of his cus- 
, tomers, stirred him up with another glass of brandy, 

I and the following question : 

‘‘Is it true that the boy was injured in trying to 
i save his father ?” 

i “Yes,” said the doctor, in a dreamy, half-uncon- 
scious tone, “that’s just how it happened.” A few 
moments before the doctor had spoken with manly 
I caution, but now he had lost control of himself and 
i said more than was prudent, more than was best for 
■ himself and his unfortunate neighbor. “Yes,” con- 
! tinned he, “that’s how it happened. The boy saved 
[ his father’s life at the risk of his own. When I dress- 
I ed the little fellow’s wounds, I found his back liter- 


32 


THE TATTLE OF LIFE. 


ally black and blue from lashes received either from 
a horse-whip or a cow-hide. _ It was a terrible, a 
damnable sight ! Walton is a brute ! He ought to 
have died; he’ ought to have been crushed into 
sausage meat !” then throwing himself back in his 
chair, the doctor closed his eyes and dosed off to i 
sleep. Piper stepped into the dining room and re- i 
turned in a moment followed by two stalwart porters 
who hoisted the tipsy physician, chair and all,> and 
carried him off to bed. 

As soon as Preston had retired, the crowd again 
fell to talking about the accident. They were very 
severe on Walton, denouncing him for his cruelty to 
Sidney, for squandering his fortune, and various other 
faults real or imaginary, when Piper, who had previ- 
ously remained silent, broke forth in a volley of ter- ; 
rific abuse. You d — d loafers,” said he, “you are 
very bold to talk behind Walton’s back ! If he were i 
to step in this minute you would be as tame as young 
doves, for you know he would knock h — 11 out of you ' 
before you could bat your eye. You fellows have I 
poured down your worthless necks barrels of whiskey ' 
which this man Walton paid for out of his own pocket. 

I have not the least doubt but every d — d one of you 
came here this morning expecting to drink at his ex- 
pense — I’m very sure you’ve not taken a drop at : 
your own expense. You are a nice lot of lousy, 1 
scurvy d — s, ain’t you ? Nice fellows I drink a man’s 
liquor and then turn around and abuse him like a 
horse thief ! If this is what you come for, your room I 
is better than your company !” 

Pete Campbell, a fat, greasy rowdy, with a great I 
red nose, recently mashed out of all shape, was the 


THE BATTLE OE LIFE. 


33 

only man in the crowd of sufficient nerve to reply. 
He said in a taunting way : 

“ That pounding Walton gave you the other night 
did a world of good. You seem to be an excellent 
friend of his since he knocked both your eyes into 
one.” 

Piper scowled fiercely at Campbell and said : 

“ I didn’t want to hurt Walton — that’s all. I 
could have whipped Amos quicker than h — 1 could 
scorch a feather — did whip him, notwithstanding I 
got the worst of the fight.’ I never struck him at 
all ; I only shut off his wind. It was all over with 
him when I got him by the throat. Perhaps you 
would like to have me feel of your weasand the 
same way, Peter Campbell ? If so, I am at your 
service.” 

‘‘ I am not at all anxious, but I will have you to 
know, Denis Piper, that I am not afraid of being 
choked by you or any other man.” 

Campbell and Piper were both “ on their muscle,” 
and were about ready for a rough and tumble fight, 
when Amos Walton, the subject of their controversy, 
suddenly entered the room. 

He looked the very picture of hopeless despair. 

One glass of whiskey would have revived him — 
would have given him strength and courage — but he 
had sworn never to taste liquor again. He shut his 
lips closely together and turned his back to the bar. 

Not a word had yet been spoken. 

Piper stepped quickly behind the counter, and set- 
ting out a bottle of brandy and a couple of glasses, 
said : 


2 


34 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


glass together, my good fellow ! I wish to congratu- * 
late you on your narrow escape last night.” 

Walton turned, and looking Piper full in the face, 
said, his voice trembling with suppressed emotion : 

** Denis Piper, I thank you ! I have sworn to my 
wife, whom I have so long abused, to my dear boy, 
whom I •have probably murdered, never to drink 
again. I mean to keep my word! I did not come 
here to drink nor to talk about drinking. I am look- 
ing for Dr. Preston ; I was told that he was here. 
Can you tell me v^here he is ? I need his services 
immediately.” 


CHAPTER VI. 


A MYSTERIOUS VISITOR. 


“ Suspicion always haunts the guilty mind ; 

The thief doth fear each bush an ofEcer.” 

/ I \ HERE was an ugly skeleton in Denis Piper’s 
closet, which he guarded as assiduously as 
ever monk of olden time guarded the sacred 
relics of his chapel. 

His poverty in the beginning of his career at Mt. 
Astar — frequently mentioned, and always with pride 
— was merely assumed. He came to the village with 
several thousand dollars carefully concealed about 
his person. This money he slowly and carefully in- 
vested, and so shrewdly that no one suspected that he 
had acquired the nucleus of his fortune elsewhere, or 


THE BATTLE OE LIFE, 


35 

in a dishonorable way. True, his mode of earning 
money was considered disreputable by many^of the 
best citizens of the village, but his business was legit- 
imate, and it was by no means improbable that he 
should have earned all that he possessed since com- 
ing to the village. There was, nevertheless, much 
cause for gossip. Several travelers had, at long in- 
tervals, stopped at the Rest, each of whom claimed to 
have known Piper, years before, in the mountains of 
Virginia. Our landlord stoutly denied all such 
knowledge, or- that he had ever lived in Virginia. 
Several of these old acquaintances he faced down by 
bold, ingenious lying, and when lies failed to answer 
his purpose, he resorted to ridicule, pretending it was 
only a joke, and treating the familiar guest to his best 
liquor — for old acquaintance sake '' — with a grimace 
and a wink to the bar-room loafers. Thus he would 
get the laugh on the traveler, and the crowd would 
go away thinking it was only a ruse of the stranger’s 
to dead-beat Piper out of a drink. But at last there 
came a stranger quite different in manner and more 
to be dreaded than any of his predecessors. He was 
well-dressed, handsome and intelligent. He claimed 
to be the agent of a ]arge real estate firm in the East, 
possessing extensive land interests in that part of the 
State. He remained at Mt. Astar for several weeks, 
stopping most of the time at the Rest. Piper watch- 
ed his movements eagerly. The stranger registered 
as Gilbert Hayes, of New York. When he went 
away. Piper made careful enquiry. Mr. H''.yes had 
transacted no business during his stay in the neigh- 
borhood. He had neither friends nor relatives in 
that region of country. No one knew anything at 
all about him. 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE, 


3 ^ 

The people soon forgot Mr. Hayes, having no 
special cause to remember him, but Piper did not. 

Years rolled by, when another stranger registered 
at the Rest as William Harper, of Kentucky. His 
face was thickly covered with long, shaggy beard, 
which met and mingled with his coarse, dark hair. 
He wore a rubber coat and leggings, and his boots 
were such as are usually worn by soldiers .in the cav- 
alry service. 

He claimed to be a stock man, engaged in the cat- 
tle trade, but he neither bought nor sold during his 
visit, though he remained for nearly three weeks. 

Piper slyly interviewed him through the key-hole. 

It was Gilbert Hayes, if the first visitor was such, 
for this was the same individual. He had taken off 
his wig and false beard, preparatory to retiring, and 
a less shrewd judge of physiognomy than Piper might 
have easily detected his^identity. 

Piper was now thoroughly alarmed, and thought 
seriously of leaving Mt. Astar, but a circumstance 
soon occurred which completely relieved his guilty 
soul of dread and afforded his rascally nature another 
and a much stronger motive for remaining. There 
were other birds to pluck, and Denis Piper was just 
the man to ick them. 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


37 


CHAPTER VII. 


A GALLING SECRET 


“ How hard to live and not reveal 
This galling secret in my breast, 

Which fear compels Jtie to conceal, 

Though God impels me to confess I” 

EV. ANDREW HAYNE, the aged pastor of 
Mt. Astar church, felt that it was his Christ- 
ian duty to visit the Waltons in their affliction. 

He had not ceased his calls through neglect, but 
because Capt. Walton had manifested much dis- 
pleasure thereat; so much, indeed, as to treat the 
aged minister rudely on several occasions. 

Mrs. Walton was a member of his church, and 
Sidney had been one of the most interesting pupils 
of his Sunday school ; but for three years neither 
had been within the walls of the church. He knew 
their absence was involuntary, for he had learned of 
their unhappy condition, yet had not ventured to 
express his sympathy or offer a word of condolence 
to either. He could .only pray to God to give them 
strength to bear the heavy burdens which He, in his 
wisdom, had permitted to be placed upon them. 

Parson Hayne had known Capt. Walton from boy- 
hood. He knew that he was not altogether bad ; 
that apart from dissipation and the evils growing out 
of it, he was an honorable man, and mentally, the 
peer of the most intelligent. 

Knowing him so well, the parson wisely concluded 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


3S 

that this accident to the boy, for which the father 
was alone to blame, would humble and soften his 
stubborn heart. Hence he made bold to pay the 
family a visit after an enforced absence of nearly 
three years. He had learned from his congregation 
that Walton had quit drinking, but was hardly pre- 
pared for the many changes, all for the better, re- 
sulting therefrom. 

When he came in sight of the residence, he paused 
to take a view oi the surroundings. The yard fence 
had been newly painted. The gates were hung on 
hinges, and the grass in the front yard had been 
newly mowed, and every weed plucked up and re- 
moved from sight. Out in the pasture, near by, 
Arthur and Ella were launching a beautiful toy boat 
on the deep, clear lake which reflected back their 
bright and cheerful faces. 

The minister thanked God for His mercy and 
goodness in thus permitting him to see this happy 
change in the life of one whose reformation he had 
long since despaired of. 

He had striven to direct the footsteps of this man 
from early boyhood. He had sometimes thought, 
with bitter anguish of spirit, that he had tran- 
scended his duty, perhaps ; and that, in his zeal to do 
good, he had disgusted the boy and soured the 
man. But he felt this morning, as he 'beheld the 
beautiful changes in Walton’s home, all wrought 
within the space of two weeks, that God had an- 
swered his prayers and blessed his labors. He 
would Tabor on for Walton’s sake ; for the sake of 
his family, whom he loved as the apple of his eye, 
and last, but not least, for the sake of the dear old 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


39 


father who had died praying for his wayward boy. 

He found Walton by Sidney’s bedside. He had 
just returned from his work and was sitting in his 
shirt sleeves, reading aloud from a story book. Mrs. 
Walton sat near the foot of the bed, busily plying 
her sewing machine, but listening as attentively as 
Sidney himself. It was, indeed, a cheerful picture, 
and the sight of it gladdened the old man’s heart. 

After exchanging the usual salutations, the min-, 
ister expressed much joy at finding Sidney so far 
recovered as to be out of danger. Taking a seat 
near the bedside, he said, in his kind, fatherly way: 

“ I hope you will be able to attend our Sabbath- 
school again in a few weeks. We miss your bright 
face and pleasant voice, but we have not forgotten 
you, Sidney; no, indeed, we have not forgotten 
you ! ” 

The boy, with much pain and effort, turned him- 
self in the bed so that he could look the old man 
full in the face, and laying his well hand in his, said: 

“I am so glad you come! Ma was just wishing 
you would, and wondering why you did not.” 

Mrs. Walton shook her head. 

Walton had previously been very bitter in his dis- 
like of Parson Hayne, and the patient wife was fear- 
ful of giving offense. Sidney, turning his head upon 
the pillow, looked straight into his father’s face. 
Walton did not evade the look, but he could not 
conceal his embarrassment. Not a word was spoken 
for several seconds. Sudh silence, following the 
words of the boy, soon became painful. The min- 
ister did not speak because he had noticed the half- 
frightened look and warning gesture of Mrs. Walton, 


40 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


The dreary silence was at last broken by a direct 
question from Sidney which pierced the stubborn 
heart of Walton and humbled his pride in the dust. 
The wounded boy simply said, in a plaintive, coax- 
ing tone : 

*‘You are glad to see Mr. Hayne, ain’t you, 
papa?” 

This was a center shot, wafted with artless, child- 
ish inexperience right home to the father’s heart. 
He answered without a moment’s hesitation: 

‘‘Yes, my son, I am glad to see Mr. Hayne ! Glad 
for your sake, because you wished him to visit you ; 
glad for my own sake, because I owe Mr. Hayne an 
apology -for my rudeness, but, most of all, for pre- 
venting you and your mother from attending church 
— for all of which I am truly sorry ! Had I taken 
this good man’s advice, Sidney, when a boy; had I 
done as you are striving to do — and may God forgive 
me for all the obstacles I have thrown in your way — 
I would have been a better and a happier man ! You 
shall have your way in this matter, henceforth, un- 
thwarted by me. I only ask you to forgive the past 
and trust me for the future ! ” And, bending ten- 
derly over the wounded boy’s pillow, he kissed his 
pale, thin face, murmuring in a half-audible tone of 
voice: “Forgive — forgive me, Sidney ! ” The boy’s 
eyes met his — one look was sufficient. — “ I know 
you do,” continued the father,” for you are a dear, 
good boy ! ” Then restraining his emotion as best 
he could, he turned to the aged minister and said : 
“ Can you forgive me for the harsh things I have 
said of you and the noble cause you serve? ” 

“With all my heart, Amos ! with all my heart and 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


41 


soul ! ” and I thank God for the opportunity and 
privilege of saying so ! This is certainly the hap- 
piest moment of my life ! ” 

Parson Hayne had a long talk with Capt. Walton 
before he left him. He urged the unhappy man to 
cast all his cares, all his sins, at the foot of the cross, 
putting all his faith in the mercy and goodness of 
the blessed Redeemer, who had spared the life of kis 
‘ boy, and saved him also, that he might return to 
the God of his fathers and become a good and useful 
man. He found Walton kind, courteous and easily 
approached on the subject ; but he declared over and 
over again that the promises of mercy were hot for 
him. There was, he said, a great burden on his 
heart which the world knew not of It was sinking 
him deeper and deeper, year by year, into an abyss 
of hopeless despair. 

The minister urged the wretched man to confess 
his sin. “ If it is against the law,” said he, “ you 
should confess to the officers of the law and face the 
danger of conviction and punishment like a man. I 
warn you of your danger : if you persist, you may 
lose your soul ! ” 

“ Punishment,” echoed Walton, in a listless, 
dreamy tone, as though his mind was wandering to 
offier fields of thought, “ I neither fear nor dread — 
I mean physical punishment, of course. I am suf- 
fering all that I can endure and live. It is the dis- 
grace to me and mine — to the honored name I bear 
— that prevents me from ridding my conscience of 
this, galling secret. What would my wife think? 
What would Sidney think ? if he knew that his father 
wa3 a — banish the thought! Never ! _ No, never will 


42 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE, 

I mention it ! ” and he walked the floor, wringing his 
hands in bitter anguish of spirit, muttering in a sub- 
dued tone of voice : “ Too late ! too late ! ” 


CHAPTER VIII. 

M.ATCHED, NOT MATED. 

“ Let her be thine ; for we have no such daughter, nor shall we 
see that face of hers again ; therefore begone, without our grace, our 
love, our benison! ” 

M any years prior to the beginning of our story^ 
a strange man, calling himself Gabriel Par- 
ker, settled near the village of Clinton, in 
Hickman county, Kentucky. He brought with him 
a large sum of money which he invested in land and 
slaves. He was about thirty years of age, and 
claimed to be a widower. He brought with him a 
boy, seven or eight years old, whom he introduced 
as his son, born to him by his deceased wife. Par- 
ker- was prudent, sober and industrious, and soon 
won the respect and confidence of the farmers, whose 
standard of gentility was wealth, honesty and thrift. 
Their new neighbor possessed all those qualifications 
in a high degree — at least so far as they were cap- 
able of judging. 

He was a man of considerable culture and natur- 
ally sought the society of the Embrees, the most 
aristocratic family in that locality. They knew no 
particular harm of Parker, but not being familiar 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


43 


with his past history, refused to recognize him. It 
was the first rebuff he had met with, and he felt the 
slight keenly. His evil nature was thoroughly 
■ aroused. He would be revenged. He would humble 
this proud, aristocratic family ; he would make them 
recognize him as their equal, or else place them un- 
der the painful necessity of disowning and discarding 
a favorite member of the home circle. He had made 
a most favorable impression on the mind and heart 
of Miss Elaine Embree, and the cunning villain, pre- 
suming on his good looks, wealth, intelligence and 
pleasing manners, believed that he could turn this 
spoilt child , of fortune against home and kindred, 
against all the world for his sake ; and he therefore 
resolved to win her affections, persuade her to elope 
with him, and when married, dictate his own terms 
to the dignified proprietor of Embree mansion. If 
the old folks proved humble and respectful, perhaps 
he would remain faithful to his marital obligations, 
otherwise he would abandon the woman he had 
sworn to love, honor and protect, seek a new home 
in some distant locality and commence life anew. 

’Being conscious of his own inferiority — being base- 
ly born and a villain at heart — such conduct was all 
that could be expected of a man so utterly vile. The 
only person in the neighborhood, undeceived by his 
plausible life, he meant to injure in a naturally mean 
and cowardly way. 

He had met Miss Embree on several occasions, 
prior to receiving her father’s ultimatum, forbidding 
him to pay further attentions to the young lady. He 
knew that she had formed a much better opinion of 
him than he deserv^. Such confidence deserved a 


44 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


better return, but Gabriel Parker was not capable of 
loving a true woman, or of loving at all. Instead of : 
reciprocating such loving kindness, he went about . 
accomplishing the ruin of this lady’s happiness with, 
all the nonchalance of a hardened villain. He feigned i 
to be desperately, hopelessly in love ; declared in the 
most earnest and impassioned manner that he could ! 
not live unless assured of her affection. He wrote 
her long letters which were ingeniously conveyed by 
one of his most trusty slaves to Miss Embree’s con- 
fidential maid-servant. The infatuated woman took 
counsel with no one. She acted from the natural 
impulse of her own loving heart, never doubting the 
sincerity of the man she blindly loved. She pitied 
his lonely life, which he had described to her so ; 
pathetically — believed every word he said. She was 
willing to follow him to the ends of the earth. 

The citizens of Clinton were startled one mornino’ ; 
to learn of the flight' of Parker and Miss Embree. ' 

° I 

The young lady had left a note in her room stating | 
the cause of her sudden departure. She had fled 
with the man she loved ; with the man of her choice. 
They were going away to get married. She hoped 
her dear father and dear, dear mother, her dearest 
brothers and sisters, each and all, would pardon her 
and forgive her lover. “ If forgiven,” said she, we 
will soon return, and then we will all love each other 
more than ever, and will be very, very happy !” 

Poor, deluded woman ! She was digging her own 
grave. Soon, very soon, nothing will be so welcome 
to her as the grave — as death — as oblivion. 


Nearly three years have passed since Elaine Em- 


THE BATTLE OE LIFE. 


4S 

;bree fled from her happy home and the society of 
loving relatives to link her life and fortune with 
Gabriel Parker. Years of bitter anguish they have 
been to her, the spoiled child of fortune whet never 
knew the want of love until she dashed the golden 
chalice from her lips. She is now very, very wretch- 
ed. A husband’s love could have filled the void in 
I her sad, bleeding heart, for such love was the price 
I of her self-imposed sacrifice, but the prayer of her 
heart is never to be answered. 

Had Parker possessed a moiety of true manhood, 
he would have loved and cherished this beautiful 
woman who had sacrificed everything but honor for 
his sake ; but he was utterly incapable of appreciat- 
ing this love, so richly, so blindly lavished upon him, 
the most unworthy' mortal that ever trampled the 
love of a pure woman under foot. 

’Squire Embree refused to see either his daughter 
or his son-in-law. Mrs. Parker was told that she 
might return home, provided she abandoned Parker, 
otherwise, never. She had expected no less, and was 
prepared for the worst; indeed, she was perfectly 
content to suffer for his sake, whom she had sworn 
to honor, love and obey. All she asked in return 
was a husband’s love, a boon she never received. 

Parker was greatly disappointed. He had flat- 
tered himself with the hope that his father-in-law 
would receive him with open arms and humble apol- 
ogies. Having failed in his cunningly devised plan 
of revenge, he soon became moody and cross to his 
wife. This harsh treatment, commencing upon the 
very threshold of their married life, overwhelmed 
her with sorrow. 


THE BATTLE OE LIFE. 


46 

When at last a beautiful boy baby was born to the 
unhappy wife, she hoped and prayed that her hus- 
band would take a fatherly interest in the child ; 
that he would love her for its sake; but the babe ; 
awakened no sympathy, no love in Parkers cold, I 
cruel heart. He named the child, in derision, after I 
its maternal grandfather, and insisted that it should | 
be known by no other name. ^ * 

With her heart almost crushed — her maternal and ! 
paternal love turned into ridicule — she was yet to i 
realize another sorrow, one for which she was wholly 
unprepared. Parker showed her a newspaper slip 
one day, which had Ipeen clipped from a New York 
paper. It read as follows : 

W ANTED — A middle-aged woman, of domestic habits, to per- 
form the duties of housekeeper and governess in the femily of 
a wealthy Kentucky planter. Labor easy; wages liberal. Address 
Herald, New YorL 

‘^This is my advertisement,” said he, ‘'and a lady 
has applied for the situation. I have accepted her 
offer of service. I cannot afford to have my house- 
hold affairs neglected. If you had devoted more 
time to business and less to sniveling, I would not 
have been compelled to do a thing so revolting to 
my feelings; but I am determined to effect a change 
for the better if it costs me half I am worth.” 

Mrs. Parker said not a word. She had done all 
that a devoted wife and mother could do to make 
her husband and children comfortable and happy. 
The care of her own child and step son had been as 
devoted and tender as her love for'them was sincere 
and earnest, hence she felt the insult very keenly. 
Her first impulse was to snatch up her child and flee 
to her old home, abandoning Parker to the tender 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


47 


mercies of his imported housekeeper; but another 
thought, more dreadful still, flashed through her be- 
wildered mind : her father might receive her coolly. 
The mere thought of such a reception weakened the 
half-formed resolution, and the impulse to return to 
her people lost all power to move her. She would 
remain. She would die at her post, if need be ; but 
she could never face a frowning father. 

The housekeeper came at last and assumed her 
duties without a wiord of protest or advice from Mrs. 
Parker. She was a tall, dark-haired, dark-skinned 
woman of thirty or thirty-five, dressed in solid black. 
She said she was a widow — Mrs. Julia McKay, of 
New York. 

Mrs. Parker shrank from coming in contact with 
this strange, sad, mysterious woman ; she shunned 
her company, even dreaded the sight of her. 

Every hope of earthly happiness vanished the mo- 
ment Mrs. McKay entered the charmed circle of home 
life, so exclusive, so sacred to a mother’s heart. She 
fell, heart-broken, utterly crushed, under this last 
cruel blow. 

In the bitterness of her soul she lived and suffered, 
not daring to hope for'any change for the better, nor 
dreaming that time could ever bring a change for the 
worse. She did not know that her wretched life was 
rapidly approaching a crisis in which her present 
sorrow would be swallowed up in another, greater 
than any .she had previously known and suffered ; 
that a revelation was near at hand that would break 
asunder the last link that bound her like a slave to 
the man she loved, strange as it may seem, with that 
foolish, womanly affection wTiich no one can account 


THE BATTLE OP LIFE, 


48 

for ; which they, themselves, are often powerless to 
define. There is something wonderful in a woman’s 
love ; something heroic and grand in a woman’s 
fidelity; and her patience is often more than human, 
being angelic, almost God-like, in its origin and ap- 
plication. The prayer of the Master: “Father, for- 
give them, they know not what they do !” is seldom 
the prayer of man, but ever upon the lips of loving, j 
compassionate,* forgiving woman. ! 

Mrs. Parker was not jealous, but she had grave | 
doubts that Mrs. McKay was not what she seemed; 
not what she claimed to be. Her power and influ- ; 
ence over Parker could not be accounted for to the | 
credit of either; and her tender affection for Felix — 
who possessed few qualities of head or heart calcu- | 
lated to win such love from a stranger — increased the 
dreadful suspicion that her husband and Mrs. McKay 
were not strangers to each other. She saw but lit- 
tle of either, but learned from the servants that Parker 
deferred to his housekeeper in all things and com- 
pelled them to respect and obey Ker as mistress. 

Matters had reached this stage of jealousy and 
doubt on the one hand, and bold, shameless assump- 
tion of authority on the other, when Parker was sud- 
denly called away to Memphis on business, taking 
his son with him. He had been gone but a day or 
two, when Mrs. McKay was taken violently ill. Her 
life was despaired of. She sent an urgent request to 
Mrs. Parker to come to her bed-side at once, saying 
that she had something of importance to confess be- 
fore she died ; that it concerned her, (Mrs. Parker,) 
more than any one else living. • 

Trembling from head to foot, Mrs. Parker repaired 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE, 49 

to the sick chamber of the conscience-stricken 
woman. 

She found the invalid very ill, but perfectly rational. 
There was no one in the room but an old negro wo- 
man, who rose and left as Mrs. Parker entered. 

She was face to face with her rival. 

Taking a seat by the bed-side of the dying woman, 
Mrs. Parker gazed sadly into the pale, haggard face 
of the invalid, and said in a voice full of sympathy 
•and tenderness : 

'‘You sent for me, Mrs. McKay; can I be of any 
service to you ?” 

" Only in listening to the confession I wish to make. 
I cannot die in* peace until I tell you the sad story of 
my life ; until I explain to you why it was that I as- 
sumed the duties of housekeeper without your wish 
or consent. The history of my blighted, ruined life 
is soon told. I hope you will not prove indifferent to 
the dying words of a wretched, heart-broken woman?” 

“ No, no !” said Mrs. Parker, with much feeling. 
“ Say what you wijl ; I will listen with all my heart !” 

MRS. m’kAY’s death-bed CONFESSION. 

At the age of eighteen years, I was employed as a governess in the 
family of Thomas Parker, a wealthy merchant in the city of Portland, 
Maine. Thomas Parker, having no son of his own, adopted and 
reared Gabriel Parker, the only child of his dead brother, who had 
died the death of an outcast, despised and shunned by all who knew 
him. Thomas Parker was very kind to his adopted son. He raised 
and educated him with as much care as a father could bestow upon a 
child. When I went to live with the Parkers, Gabriel was head clerk 
in his uncle’s store. He made love to me soon after I entered the 
family, and was so devoted in his attentions that I at last accepted his 
proffered affection and soon came to regard him as my future husband. 
The family offered no objections to the match, notwithstanding my 
humble birth and the inferiority of my position in society. He gained 

3 


50 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


complete control of my heart. He vowed continually that he meant 
to marry me just as soon as he could settle himself in business, and I 
believed every word he said. Trusting to his honor, confiding in his 
love, believing that he was devoted to me, heart and soul, I in turn 
indulged the most blind and foolish love for him. My passion almost 
bereft me of reason, and lured me from womanly prudence. I 
yielded, and did not fully discover my folly until I had importuned 
him with prayers and tears to marry me ; to save me from disgrace and 
ruin. He laughed in my face ; mocked my prayers and tears. When 
his uncle learned of my misfortune — learned that his nephew had 
blighted my good name for life — he discarded him ; turned him adrift 
on the world without a dollar. This humbled him very much, and 
gave me some hope that he would yet fulfill his promise, but I was 
doomed to still greater disappointments. I returned to my humble 
home, but my parents refused me shelter and protection. I took a 
servant’s place in the household of a well-to-do farmer, who had com- 
compassiOn for my wretchedness, despite the gossip it occasioned in 
the neighborhood. While a servant in the family of this brave,, gen- 
.erous, kind hearted man, I received a visit from Parker, who expressed 
some pity for me in my distress, and even hinted that he would yet 
marry me and take me away from among the people who knew of my 
misfortune, and took particular pains to make me feel that I no longer 
possessed a particle of respectability. He seemed to be very fond of 
the child. He gave me money, as an earnest of what he meant to do 
for me and my son. He said he was not earning much, but whenever 
he prospered we should not want for anything. Two years passed, 
and I heard one day that he had forged several drafts on his uncle for 
large sums of money, and had fled the country. I heard nothing more 
of him for several years, when, one dark, rainy night, two masked men 
entered the kitchen, where Felix and I were sleeping, and snatched the 
boy froni my arms and carried him oft'. I pursued them through the 
darkness, screaming for help, but all in vain. I heard no more of 
Parker and my child for several years. The family I lived with moved 
West and I accompanied them. We settled in Southern Indiana. In 
our new home I passed for a widow, taking the name of Mrs. McKay. 

I was kindly received. I was engaged to teach the district school, and 
gave general satisfaction. One day I read in a Louisville paper an 
account of your elopement and marriage. The article was from the 
Clinton correspondent of the paper. The writer spoke of my son, 
Felix, giving his age. I knew at once that this was my lost boy. I 
wrote to Parker, telling him he must give back my child and support 
us, or I would expose his villainy. He refused to give up the boy, but 
made arrangements by which I could come to him ; and I accordingly ' 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


51 

entered your family as a governess and housekeeper. Felix had for- 
gotten me, and we thought it best that I should not make myself known 
to him. You have heard my story, truthfully told. I hope you will 
forgive me. It has not been my wish to give you pain. I came here 
, because I was constrained to do s^o by a mother’s love; I came here 
to be with my child. I would have been kind to you ; I would have 
been your humble servant, had Parker not 'compelled me to assume 
the authority of a mistress — he would not allow me to treat you as you 
deserved I had no choice but to yield to his wishes or leave the 
place. It is the first time that I ever seriously wronged a living soul, 
and I feel that I cannot die in peace without asking your forgiveness. 

Mrs. Parker, after a brief silence, and a severe 
struggle with her own heart, assured the penitent 
woman that she believed every word of her story and 
forgave her most sincerely. Trembling with emotion, 
she pressed the cold hand of Mrs. McKay in her own, 
and stooping over the pale face of the dying woman, 
she sealed her words of forgiveness with a farewell 
kiss. 

Mrs. Parker no longer faltered or hesitated in her 
i resolution, now that she knew Parker to be a culprit 
i and a fugitive from justice. She had borne his harsh 
[ treatment patiently, thinking him no worse than he 
("seemed ; but now she felt that she could not bear to 
look into his face again. Her people, in ail their 
' generations, had been honorable; not one of the 
name but scorned to do a dishonorable act. She 
would not, could not, live with a thief. Now that her 
love for Parker was turned to hatred, she no longer 
felt jealous of the wretched woman who had pre- 
' viously caused her so much pain. She might die or 
■ get well, remain or go away, she cared not, so far as 
Parker was concerned. All interest in him, all love 
and respect, vanished forever when she learned that 
he was a thief. She ordered her carriage imme- 


52 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE, 


diately after leaving the bed-side of Mrs. McKay, ,) 
and, taking her child in her arms, told the servant to i) 
drive her to her father’s residence. 

To Mrs. Parker, the thought of crossing the 
threshold of her old home was most dreaded of all 
things, save one — that of being the wife of an outlaw q 
and a fugitive from justice. More dead than alive, ^ 
she was driven to her father’s gate. i 

Her reception was most loving, sincere and tear- : 
ful. Her father met her at the gate and almost car- j 
ried her in his arms to the door, where the dear bid 
mother waited to receive her with a loving, forgiving 
kiss and a generous welcome. They knew, without < 
asking, that she had come to stay. They were ex- 
pecting her return, and had been for many months. I 


CHAPTER IX. 

FRIENDSHIP AND DUTY. 


“We slept together, rose atari instant, learned, played. 

Ate together, and wheresoe’r we went, like Juno’s swans, still 
We went coupled, and inseparable.” 


/^OL. DUVALL believ^ed that his life was fast 
\j drawing to a close. He realized, in the bitter- 
ness of his soul, that he could no longer hope 
to accomplish the pet object of his life ; but he would 
not despair of its accomplishment — he would dele- 
gate the trust to another. 

Having made up his mind to bequeath this sacred 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE, 


53 


trust to other hands, it did not take him long to de- 
cide upon whom this mantle of duty should fall. He 
sent at once for Albert Early, the high sheriff of a 
neighboring parish. 

When the sheriff arrived, he found Col. Duvall on 
his death-bed. After greeting Early in the most 
cordial manner, the Colonel expressed the desire that 
his relatives and friends should retire ; then request- 
ing Early to lock the doors of his chamber, he said : 

“ I am truly glad to see you. Early, for I have a 
matter of very great importance to communicate, and 
time is very precious — very precious to me, Early, 
for I am dying ! ” 

“ Thinking you had something of importance to 
1 communicate,” said Early, “ I lost no time. If I can 
do anything, I shall be most happy in serving you.” 

I mean to leave all that is dear to me solely in 
j your hands, Albert. I am not afraid to trust you, 
i because I respect, honor and love you, and for 
the best reasons in the world. You are nearer and 
dearer to me than any one living, save my wife and 
child. Your father and I were bosom friends, school- 
mates and confidants. We graduated the same year 
and from the same college. There was scarcely a 
year’s difference in the date of our births and mar- 
riages. Our wives both lived in the same town and 
were friends before their marriage, better friends af- 
terwards. You were not three months old, when a 
son was born to me. You and my boy grew up to- 
gether, and were friends, as your father and I were 
in youth and manhood. You were true to my son 
up to the very moment of his death. I have always 
intended to reward you, to make you and your chil- 


54 


THE BATTLE OE LIFE. 

dren heirs to a large portion of my estate, for your 
father did not prosper in the world as I did. He 
was always too proud to accept any favors from me. 

I respected this pride, honored such manly indepen- 
dence, and always felt the warmest sympathy and 
the liveliest interest in both father and son. Your i 
wife and children will be society and company for 
my wife and daughter. They 'will need their friend- ' 
ship when Tam gone, and I hope they will love each 
other as sincerely as. your father loved me — as de- 
votedly as I loved your father. I have willed you 
one of my plantations, with the earnest request that 
you make it your future home. It is elegantly im- 
proved. I know you will like it very much. I have 
bequeathed you some money besides. I want you 
to be near my wife and child, to look after and take 
care of them. I leave you property enough, if care- 
fully managed, to make you and yours independent 
for life. I do so for two reasons : First, for the sake 
of the warm friendship existing between our fami- 
lies ; Second, that you may have abundant leisure to 
execute a sacred trust which, with your consent, I 
mean to impose upon you. My will is made and 
duly witnessed. In this package which I hold in my 
hand, is written the charge which I leave you to exe- 
cute. I have also named you as one_ of the execu- 
tors of my will. The duty I impose on you is hon- 
orable ; meant only to further the ends of justice. I 
say to you, with the shadow of death resting upoji 
me : There -can be nothing unreasonable, nothing dis- 
honorable hi the execution of this pledge. Do you 
consent?” 

‘‘ I do.” 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


55 


‘‘Take this package in your left hand. Now give 
me your right,” continued he, looking Early full in 
the face. The sheriff complied without a moment’s 
hesitation. Still holding Early’s hand, the Colonel 
said in an earnest, solemn tone of voice : 

Albert Early ^ do you solemnly swear that you will 
faithfidly perfornty to the very best of your ability y the 
task implied in the sealed package you hold in your 
handy so help you Godf'' 

“ I do ; and may God help me to faithfully exe- 
cute the trust, which you have, in your wisdom and 
confidence, imposed on me ! ” 

“ Take the package with you,” said the dying 
man, “and guard it carefully. It no longer concerns 
me. It is yours to keep, yours to execute. Do not 
break the seal until I am dead and buried. May 
God help you, my dear boy, and make your life bet- 
ter and happier than mine. I was too selfish ; to 
vain of my handsome, noble boy ! His sudden, un- 
timely death wrecked my life. You have a boy, an 
only son. He is all that a father could wish his son 
to be. Remember my sad fate ; do not make an idol 
of this boy ; you may lose him as I lost mine ; you 
may bury the boy and your own heart in the same 
grave ! Come immediately when you hear that I am 
dead. Good-bye ! ” 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


56 


CHAPTER X. 


SCYLLA AND CHARYBDIS. 


“ An oath is of no moment, if not taken before a true and lawful 
magistrate, that hath authority over him that swears.” 

W ALTON, true to his pledge, had for several 
months abstained from strong drink. Not 
a cent of his money had gladdened the 
greedy eyes and itching palrns of Denis Piper, though 
the landlord had resorted to every artifice that cun- 
ning could devise to get him back into his den. 

Walton had thus far manfully resisted the desire to 
drink, though most severely tempted. Piper knew 
that this exhibition of firmness was exceptional; 
more from remorse of conscience than from an in- 
born, earnest desire to lead a better life. If once 
back among his boon companions, he would resume 
his old habits. 

Walton, appreciating his own weakness, shunned 
the bar-room. He went earnestly to work to retrieve 
his shattered fortunes, but with a heavy heart. The 
old feeling of hope, ambition and energy no longer 
cheered his active brain or nerved his strong, willing 
hands to toil as in days of old. He was not the man 
he had been. Every day brought him face to face 
with some of the evil fruits of his past reckless life, 
and the sad lessons of experience burned and rankled 
in his heart, making him more and more wretched : 
still the resolution not to drink any more remained 
unbroken. Several months passed and the neigh- 


THE BA TTLE OF LIFE, 


57 


bors had nearly ceased to wonder at his sudden 
reformation, which at first astonished them as though 
it had been a miracle. Even Piper had at last made 
up his mind that Walton would “ stick,” unless some- 
thing happened to “ upset him,’' as he expressed it. 
Believing thus, he was surprised and delighted when 
the object of his solicitude suddenly entered the bar- 
room of his tavern. He held a letter, crushed and 
crumpled in his hand, only the corners of which were 
visible to the lynx-eyed landlord. He appeared 
much excited; walked to and fro in a listless, nerv- 
ous manner, his hands folded behind him and his eyes 
fixed on the floor. He barely nodded to Piper, on 
entering, and did not notice the bar-room loafers, 
who appeared very glad to see him, and eager to 
manifest their pleasure. They were as dry as a 
school of stranded mackerel, and each hoped to wet 
his whistle at Walton’s expense, as in the precious 
days of old. They stood in rows, like seasoned casks, 
waiting to be filled. 

When Walton raised his eyes, the first object that 
met his sight was Denis Piper, leaning over the coun- 
ter, eyeing him like a bird of prey. This sinister 
gaze made Walton feel ill at ease. He was in the 
wrong pew and mentally regretted having entered 
the tavermat all ; but soon a feeling of desperation 
came over him. What could happen worse than had 
already befallen him ? In the devious current of evil 
he found himself running lower and lower, growing 
more and more desperate, until the last and smallest 
pebble of hope had disappeared from sight in this 
rugged channel of adverse fortune in which he flound- 
ered, self-debased and wretched, the most abject, 


THE BATLE OF LIFE, 


58 

hopeless waif in the wide, wide world ! He motioned 
to Piper, who led the way into another room. 

As he turned to follow Walton, Piper observed his 
every motion — saw him cautiously slip the letter 
from his hand into his coat pocket — marked the man- 
ner as well as the movement. I will read that let- 
ter,” murmured the old villain; ‘‘the devil’s to pay 
somewhere or somehow, and no mistake ! ” 

When the door leading into the bar-room closed 
behind them, Walton said, in a voice tremulous with 
excitement : 

“ Piper, I am a ruined man unless I can raise six 
hundred dollars ! ” 

“ Have you tried to raise the money? ” 

“Yes, but to no purpose. I have gone to all the 
men of means within the range of my acquaintance; 
not one will turn a hand to help me.” 

“Now you come to Denis Piper? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“ What can he do for you ? ” 

“ I don’t know.” 

“What ought the old wretch to do?” 

“ I leave that for you to answer, though I have 
never called you names.” 

“You have dreaded this interview worse than 
death ? ”, 

“ Yes.” 

“You expected to be refusedt^” 

“You have guessed correctly, and I have dreaded 
this interview not a little. I was fearful you might 
not only refuse to aid me, but that you would take 
advantage of my desperate condition to insult me.” 

“ Banish all your silly fears,” said Piper, empha- 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE, 


59 

sizingi^every word of the sentence ; I will loan you 
the money! • 

Thanks, Denis, a thousand thanks!” said Wal- 
ton, springing to his feet and grasping the landlord 
by the hand, as the tears rolled down his cheeks. 

“Don’t make a d — d fool of yourself, Walton! 
You act as though you had despaired of finding a 
friend on earth. The psalm singers, temperance 
sneaks and hallelujah people all went back on you, 
of course ; it’s just like them to do such things — just 
like them. Now, if you are really as grateful as you 
seem, I hope you will have more respect for my feel- 
ings than to snub me again, as you did the last time 
you were here. As long as I am your friend you 
should treat me as such ; do you understand ? ” 

Walton earnestly protested that he had never in- 
tended to wound the landlord’s feelings. 

“ Well, well,” said Piper, gruffly, “ we disciples of 
Bacchus settle all our disputes, all our troubles, over 
the bottle. Shall I order a sling of brandy and wa- 
ter for two ? ” 

“For God’s sake, no! Do not tempt me. Piper! 
I have sworn not to drink ; if I break my pledge, I 
am a ruined man. I could not appreciate your kind- 
ness more if I were to drink of your liquor to 
drunkenness; nor should you think more of me 
drunk than sober. Take my word as the bond and 
pledge of good-will! Excuse me from drinking! 
Let not our mutual friendship depend upon such 
hard conditions ! I had rather you would murder 
me — I had indeed!” 

“That’s d — d fine, Walton; but 'fine words butter 
no parsnips.’ We do not live by words alone, how- 


6o 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


ever prettily spoken ; neither do we profit by gush 
and sentimental twaddle. I hate ^our fine temper- 
ance talk as the Devil hates holy water. If you have 
much of this sort, I would advise you to hire a hall 
or organize a crusade. There’s money in that voice 
of yours; and those soft, mellow, pleading eyes will 
set the women crying, the very sight of them. 
There’s no need borrowing money of me, or any one 
else; you can earn five hundred a night, relating 
your own sad experience to a sympathetic world. 
It requires no capital — only a three-legged stool and 
a copy of Arthur’s ‘Ten Nights in a Bar-room!* 
Go, you have my blessing! ” and, with his hand on 
the door-knob, and his back to Walton, he paused 
for a reply. He knew that his victim would either 
revolt at this, or yield. He had answered his little 
speech with burning, withering satire, and was now 
waiting the result of his own effort. He was ready 
to drink a social glass with Walton or fight him, as 
he preferred. But the blighting curse of one mortal 
sin had tamed Walton’s fiery temper and turned his 
courage into slavish fear. He called to Piper, and 
said : 

“ Hold! hear me, just one word ! I have taken a 
solemn oath not to drink. It’s my oath that deters 
me, not the silly scruples which others may have on 
the subject. I am the husband of a loving, devoted 
wife; the father of kind, affectioi.o.te children. It 
was for their sake I assumed this obligation. You are 
neither a husband ] nor a father. Were you either 
you might appreciate my feelings ! ” 

“Oh, fiddle-sticks! I have heard enough of this; 
it is old, monotonous. Give my love to your inter- 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


6i 


esting family. Tell them that I am still at the old stand; 
that all is lovely and the goose hangs high. Take 
care of your jioble, virtuous self. Don’t eat any dirt. 
Good-bye 1 ” and Denis opened the door, and was 
just stepping into the bar-room, when Walton called 
to him : 

Stay, Piper, just one moment. You did not hear 
me through. I meant to assure you that it was not 
disrespect of you that prevented me from indulging 
a social glass. The oath I have — ” 

“ Oath, the devil ! What’s an oath, unless adminis- 
tered by an officer of the law ? Idle nonsense ; silly, 
childish twaddle ! ” 

“ Well, well,” says Walton, with an effort that al- 
most choked him, “ bring out your bottle ; I find 
that we cannot be friends without it.” Then he mut- 
tered to himself: “I cannot afford to lose a good 
friend when I am so much in need of friendship and 
assistance. God forgive me ! it' shall be the last, the 
very last ! ” 

After their first bottle. Piper said : 

“ What security can you give me, Walton, for the 
payment of the money you wish to borrow?” 

I will give you a deed of trust on all my per- 
sonal property, except Sidney’s pony. My house- 
hold and land I will not mortgage — there’s no use — 
the stock will more than secure the debt” 

Piper said not a word. Rising from his seat, he 
stepped quietly to the door and called to a porter to 
bring another bottle of brandy. 

Walton demurred not, but emptied glass about 
with Piper, not waiting to be a§ked or urged to do so, 


62 


THE, BATTLE OF LIFE. 


He did not notice that Piper s potations were mostly 
water, but, growing reckless, drained glass after glass 
of the fiery liquor regardless of consequences. At 
last, seeing that his victim was thoroughly drunk, 
PAper said : 

Walton, I know nothing about the value of stock. 
It don’t suit me to take a mortgage on such property. 
I do not intend to press you for the money, but I 
must feel sure of it ; I must have a deed of trust on 
your land.” 

“ Piper, (hie) it’s all that’s left of the bes’ farm in the 
State o’ ’hio. The mansion now ’longs to ’nother 
feller, (hie). He don’t know me, Denus, when he 
meets me ’n road. Stranger; (hie) fine man, ’spose; 
but he don’t know Amos Walton when he meets him 
’n the road. This cottage, Denus Viper, and house, 
(hie) and ninety hakers land, hall’s left. If hu want 
hit, (hie) take um hall, Demus, hand welcome ! ’* 

Piper sent for a notary, a half-starved disciple of 
Blackstone, who, for a generous fee and a glass of 
brandy, fixed the papers-, acknowledging Walton’s 
signature to the deed of trust, notwithstanding he was 
utterly incapable of attending to business. 

When all was settled to the satisfaction of Piper, 
he tojd a porter to take Walton and put him in 
bed. 

After waiting long enough for his victim to fall 
into a drunken sleep. Piper crept slyly to the roomj 
entering on tip-toe and securely bolting the door be- 
hind him. Walton was fast asleep. The letter, 
crushed into a shapeless mass, was still in his coat 
pocket. The landlord, with noiseless tread, crept 
nearer to the side of his victim, lying prone upon a 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 63 

dirty mattress, destitute of covering, and seized the 
letter with greedy, nervous haste. 

I proved a revelation. 

Here was the secret of this man’s strange life, made 
plain as the noon-day sun. Here, too, was the hid- 
den mystery of his urgent want ; the secret of his 
tame surrender. He had struggled hard and man- 
fully, but henceforth there could be no conflict of 
authority ; for, with the power to crush his victim 
financially, to blight his character, ruin him soul and 
body, Walton dared not assert his manhood. God 
pity him ! he was not only a slave to strong drink, 
but to the vender of this liquid poison as well. 

Piper quietly copied a few names and dates, such 
as might be of use to him in the future, and then re- 
placed the letter in Walton’s pocket, and left the 
room as quietly as he had entered. 

The secret Walton feared to reveal to Parson 
Hayne, his best friend, had become the property of 
Denis Piper, his worst enemy. 


CHAPTER XL 

A STORMY INTERVIEW. 

“ Words, Horatio, words ! ” 

W ALTON did not rally from his drunken stu- 
por in time to return home in anything like 
decent plight; indeed, he did not return at 
all of his own volition. 

In the dusk of evening, Sidney had gone to the 
village in quest of his father. It was with a heavy 


64 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


heart, for he felt almost sure that his father had again 
fallen a victim to his besetting sin. Sidney disliked 
above all things to go to the tavern, and earnestly 
hoped to find the object of his search on the streets 
or in some of the shops. He enquired at a number 
of places, but none of the inmates had seen his father 
during the day. He at last called at the office of Dr. 
Preston. The Doctor was sitting near the door read- 
ing a paper when the boy entered. He greeted Sid- 
ney with a genial smile. Taking him by the hand, 
he looked straight into his face for several seconds 
without saying a word. The boy was embarrassed 
and showed it plainly by his manner. He stood 
drumming on the floor with the toe of his boot, wait- 
ing impatiently for the doctor to break the disagree- 
able silence, but for several minutes, not a word es- 
caped his lips. They seemed to understand each 
other’s thoughts without speaking. At last the 
doctor said : 

“ Well, my son, what can I do for you ? ” 

With much effort, choking down a half-audible 
sob, the boy said : 

I am looking for pa ; have you seen him to-day ?” 

I have, Sidney,” said the kind-hearted physician, 
toying with the boy’s fingers and looking very seri- 
ously all the while, “ and I am sorry, very sorry, to 
say that your father is now at Piper’s, drunks 

The doctor narrowly watched the expression of 
Sidney’s countenance ; marked the gathering tear- 
drops in his bright, blue eyes ; observed the nervous 
twitchings of the muscles of his sad, pale face, and 
his generous heart was deeply moved. The boy 
turned to go away : 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


6S ■ 

“Hold, Sidney, just one moment,” said the doctor, 
laying his hand gently on the boy’s shoulder. I 
will go with you to the tavern and see that you are 
not insulted nor harshly treated by Piper and his 
drunken rowdies. Come, follow me.” 

They went by the livery stable, where the doctor 
gave an order for a carriage to be sent at once to the 
tavern. 

Entering the bar-room, they found only Piper and 
one or two tipplers standing at the bar. Preston 
walked up to the counter and said : 

“ Piper, this is Capt. Walton’s son, Sidney.” 

“Master Sidney, happy to know you,” said Piper, 
with a stiff bow and a smile that lingered in the corn- 
ers of his mouth, and gradually changed to a sneer. 

The boy returned his salutation by looking him 
straight in the face without speaking. 

“ He has come for his father. Piper. I suppose 
the Captain is here.” 

“Yes, but too drunk to navigate.” Then giving 
a fierce glance at Sidney, continued : “ How in the 
d — 1 does he expect to take his daddy home in the 
fix he is in ? That’s the question ! He can no 
more stand alone than an empty meal sack ! ” 

“ That’s no affair of yours, Denis Piper,” said 
Preston, sharply. “ You will please be so kind as to 
show the way to his room. We will relieve you of 
all concern on his account.” 

“ Certainly,” said the obsequious landlord, leading 
the way into the unfurnished, dirty apartment in 
which he had placed his victim. 

Walton, with the assistance of the doctor and Sid- 
ney, was placed in the carriage and driven home. 

4 


66 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE, 


When he awoke next morning, the transactions of 
the day previous seemed like a dream. He was dis- 
gusted with himself for having yielded, but, worst of 
all, he dreaded what might have been, and probably 
was, the result of his unfortunate debauch. What 
advantage had Piper taken of him while drunk ? 
This thought haunted his mind and made him more 
and more wretched. • He found six hundred dollars 
in his pocket. What security had Piper required 
and obtained for the loan of this money? With his 
mind thus harrowed and oppressed with doubts, his 
conscience smiting him at every thought, he returned 
to the village to ascertain the true nature of the 
transaction, and to utilize the loan he had received 
the day before. 

Passing down the street in the direction of the 
tavern, he was hailed by Dr. Preston, who called to 
him from his office window. Taking Walton by the 
hand, he said : 

** Captain, I am very, very sorry to learn that you 
have taken to the bottle again. Sorry on your own 
account; on your wife’s account, and for your chil- 
dren. Your wife is a lady of refinement and culture, 
and you have the most interesting children I know 
of in all my acquaintance. Sidney is my ideal of 
what a boy should be in intelligence, disposition, 
form and feature — all that I could wish or hope for 
were he my own son. You will pardon me. Captain, 
if I speak a disagreeable truth : your dissipation is 
breaking the boy’s heart ; crushing the life" of him, 
day by day. I know you love the boy; you can’t 
help but love him. Now, for his sake, don’t get 
drunk to-day; don’t go near old Piper’s den.” 

“ I thank you. Doctor, for your good opinion of 


- 


i THE BATTLE OF LIFE, ‘ 67 

S’ me and mine, and I mean to follow your advice,' but 
I I am compelled to go to the tavern on business. I 
f had some important dealings with Piper yesterday, 
I and, confidentially, I am fearful that he has taken an 
unfair advantage of my condition at the time. I 
must go and see about it.” 

“ Excuse me, Captain ; may I ask the nature of 
this business, as well as you can remember?” 

“ Certainly. I borrowed a considerable sum of 
money from Piper, for which I agreed to give a deed 
'y of trust on my personal property, but for the life of 
I me, I cannot remember whether I did or not. I am 
fearful that he secured a mortgage on my house and 
' land. I must go to the tavern and ascertain the 
facts in the case, but I promise you I will not drink.” 

“No; do not go near that den. Go home^ I will 
enquire for you and send word this very evening.” 

Walton thanked the doctor, and took his advice ; 
but before going home he bought a check with the 
money he had received from Piper, and mailed it — 
so anxious was he to appease the inordinate greed of 
that individual who held him bound as tightly as the 
witch, Sycorax, held her servant, Ariel, 

“ Close mewed in the rifted pine.” 

He was restless and ill at ease. He walked the 
yard to and fro impatiently. In a few hours a mes- 
senger rode up to the gate and handed him a letter. 
He opened it with nervous haste and read: 

Deai^ Captain : I am sorry to inform you that Piper has a deed of 
trust, duly signed and sealed, on your house and land. If you have 
not used the money, ti viust be returned to him, and the deed lifted at 
once. Come to me as soon as you get this. I will assist you, if nec- 
essary, in raising the money, even if I have to pawn my office and 
library. You must be released from the clutches of this villain, cost 
what it will. Your friend, Charles Preston. 


68 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


When Walton read this note his fury knew no 
bounds. He was often a maniac when intoxicated 
with liquor — he was always more than a maniac when 
intoxicated with rage. 

He rushed into the house, seized a large carving 
knife from the pantry shelf, and started in a run to- 
wards the village tavern. His wife looked on in 
blank astonishment, frightened almost out of her 
wits, but before she had time to recover from her 
amazement, Walton had disappeared in the distance. 
She went in quest of Sidney, whom she dispatched 
in great haste to the village. She belie^ved that 
Walton had gone on a desperate errand. She feared 
that he would either do violence to some one, or get 
killed himself. She knew his fierce temper, which 
bore down everything before it like the withering 
simoon that' is only lulled and cooled to calmness 
when it has completely exhausted itself in the wreck 
and ruin of opposing elements. 

Walton did not go to Dr. Preston, as he certainly 
would had he taken time to reflect, but impelled by 
that fierce impulse of passion which does not reason 
nor listen to reason, he thought only of revenge — 
speedy, thorough and unrelenting. 

He entered the tavern livid with rage and tremb- 
ling with excitement. 

There was no one in the bar-room but Piper. 
Walton stepped up to the counter, and looking the 
landlord savagely in the face, fairly hissed : 

‘‘You d — d scoundrel! You tried to rob me! 
You filched my signature to a deed of trust on my 
house and land 1 I agreed to secure you and save 
myself from ruin, but you made me drunk, you d — d 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE, 


69 


villain, and secured my name to a different paper ! 
You shall fulfill your obligation, honestly, or, by 
G — d, your life shall answer for it ! ” 

“ Come, Walton, you are excited ! You will think 
better of this after you get over your passion.” 

Piper was perfectly calm, but he watched his ene- 
my very closely. 

Do you intend to release my land?” 

Do you think you can make me do it ? ” 

Yes, or Til send you to h — 1 for it ! ” 

‘^Indeed!” 

mean business. I did not come here to talk.” 

“ Then cheese your racket ; you are doing all the 
talking.” 

“ Are you armed ? ” continued Walton, as he drew a 
long knife from his boot-leg. 

Why do you ask ? ” said Piper, still calm, but 
vigilant. 

‘‘ I wouldn’t kill a dog without giving him a chance 
for his life. I will fight you to the death, any way 
you will, but I do not desire to take the least advan- 
tage, base, mean, hellish as you are. Come, I am 
waiting.” 

** So is the hangman.” 

“ Are you armed ? ” 

Yes.” 

“ Then, why in the h — 1 don’t you move ? Shall I 
reach for you ?” and Waltorftirew his knife through 
his hand and stepped nearer to the counter. 

“ You asked if I were armed ; did you mark my 
answer?” 

“ I did, villain.” 

What did I say ?” 


70 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


“You said you were armed.” 

“So I am.” 

“Then, coward, defend yourself!” and he ad- 
vanced still nearer, brandishing the knife in a men- 
acing manner. 

“ I’ve no knife ; no weapon, but this,” lolling his 
tongue like a snake, “ but I can stab you to the heart 
with words, four little words, and you are a dead 
man.” 

“ What do you mean ?” said Walton, in a tremu- 
lous tone of voice, his words almost choking him. 

“ This,” said Piper, making an ominous jesture 
with his right hand. “You are waiting to cut me 
with that knife. I advise you to keep cool. You 
are near enough the gallows already,” 

Piper talked in riddles, but Walton understood him 
well enough. This terrible Threat unmanned him. 
The knife, which, but a moment ago, was pointed 
menacingly at Piper’s throat, now fell from his nerve- 
less grasp, and the furious burst of passion subsided 
into an abject, timorous calm. His knees smote to- 
gether. He sank, almost fell, into a seat near the 
wall, and buried his face in his hands. 

• Neither spoke for several minutes. Piper was 
again victorious. 

At last Walton rose from his seat and walked 
slowly towards the counter, behind which the land- 
lord still stood in sullen silence. There were two 
loaded revolvers under the counter in convenient 
reach, hence Piper had no just cause to fear his rash 
and impetuous foe. He had resolved to shoot Wal- 
ton through the head, ifhe made a thrust at him with 
his knife, but there was, happily, no cause for vio- 
lence. 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


71 


Walton -begged the privilege of a private interview. 

Piper rang for a porter to attend the bar, and plac- 
ing a revolver in his pocket, led the way into the 
same room that Walton had occupied the day before. 
Locking the. door behind him, he said : 

“ What do you want?” 

** I want to know how you obtained knowledge 
of — ” here his voice again faltered and he was silent 
for several minutes. 

Piper did not answer. 

I ‘‘ I was sure,” continued Walton, that but onoin- 
^ dividual in the world, beside myself, knew aught of 
this circumstance.” 

“ But it seems that you were badly mistaken.” 

‘‘ Will you tell me how you obtained your inform- 
ation ?” 

Certainly. I learned it from a detective. They 
have been after you for years. They stop with me 
when in town.” 

“ Piper, I do not believe a word you say.” 

You don’t, eh ? Have I not convinced you that I 
know all about it?” 

'' Oh, I do not doubt that, but had you learned it 
from a detective, it would have been after I were in 
hand-cuffs. Tell me, for God’s sake, how you learned 
this terrible secret. Tell me the truth. It can do 
you no harm ; it may save me from ruin.” 

If I were to tell you, Walton, you would not be- 
lieve me.” 

‘‘Did you learn it from a man in New York whose 
name commences with a T. ?” 

“ You are not sharp enough to pump me, Amos 


73 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE, 


Walton. I know what I know, and there’s an end 
of it?” 

“ Do you intend to betray me ? ” 

could make my fortune by doing so. Outraged 
justice is willing to pay a big price for your blood. 
Ten thousand dollars is a large sum of money to a 
poor man like me, and is not to be sneezed at. 

“Do you intend to betray me? ” demanded Wal- 
ton in much agitation. 

“ I am too kind and compassionate for my own 
good. I never go back on my friends, notwithstand- 
ing they sometimes get mad and try to carve me with 
a bowie-knife.” 

“Then you do not intend to betray me? ” 

“No, not if you do right.” 

“ What would you have me do ? 

“ In the first place, you must cease acting the d — d 
fool. My conditions are easy enough : Treat me 
like a gentleman. Come and see me when you are 
in town. Look cheerful and act accordingly. Make 
the Rest your headquarters, as of old. Attract cus- 
tom to my bar. There is not a man in Ohio can 
excel you in telling a joke or singing a song. The 
Rest has been as gloomy as a graveyard since you 
left. You will find me mild, gentle and loving, if 
you stroke my fur the right way, but the devil on 
wheels when you rile me. I hope you understand 
the situation,^ and trust you have sense enough to 
profit by it.” 

“ Piper, I will do anything, everything, rather than 
you should divulge my secret ! ” 

“ Very well. I shall lose money by the operation ; 
but no matter. I will make you useful. No more 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE, 


73 


nonsense; no more cutting of saucy capers — in short, 
you are my bacon, Amos Walton, and you shall serve 
me ten thousand dollars worth / ” 

Walton bowed his head almost to the ground, but 
made no reply. He was indeed the slave of Denis 
Piper and dared not resist the ruffian’s authority. 

Dr. Preston remained at his office, patiently wait- 
ing for Walton to come and wondering why he did 
not. At last he resolved to step over to the tavern 
and get a glass of brandy. As he neared the en- 
trance, he heard Piper railing and swearing at a furi- 
ous rate. The doctor stepped to the door but did 
not enter. Taking a position where he could see 
without being seen by those inside, he observed that 
Piper was cursing Sidney, telling him to get out else 
he would “mop the floor” with his body. He saw 
the boy stoop to the floor and take up a large knife, 
saying as he did so: 

“ I have come for my father. Motl#r sent me. 
I will not go till I find him ; — I will die first! If you 
lay the weight of your hand on me, you old villain, I 
will plunge this knife to the handle in your body! ” 

Piper was seriously puzzled. It would be an ever- 
lasting disgrace for him to draw a pistol on this pale- 
faced, slender boy; besides, the bar-room loafers 
would take the lad’s part, and though master of the 
place, he would be worsted in the controversy. Sid- 
ney meant all that he said — of this there could be no 
doubt. It would never do to yield to a small boy. 
Piper rang for the porter, and told him to put Sidney 
out of the house. The landlord and his lackey were 
advancing on the boy from opposite directions, when 
Dr. Preston sprang through the doorway. He was 


74 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


in a towering passion. Pulling a small pistol from 
his vest pocket, he said : 

“ Piper, you d — d old pickpocket, if you touch that 
boy ril blow your brains out ! ” 

The landlord turned and walked behind the coun- 
ter without saying a word, while the lackey sneaked 
out at a back door. 

Preston went up to Sidney, and taking the knife 
from his hand — it was the weapon the boy’s father 
had dropped at the ominous hint of his own crime — 
said: 

“You must leave this den, my boy. You are too 
pure and tender to engage in grocery broils. Come, 
go with me,” and, taking the lad gently by the hand, 
the doctor led the way into the street. The pent-up 
fury that had sustained Sidney in his bold defiance 
of Piper was novel to himself and surprising to Pres- 
ton. He had gone humbly into the bar-room, cap in 
hand, trembling with embarrassment, but the moment 
Piper commenced to rail at him in a rough and bru- 
tal manner, all his timidity vanished. Seizing the 
knife he boldly withstood the author of all his troubles 
— the only man in the world whom he sincerely 
hated — but when he reached the street the rage that 
had sustained him gave way, and he fell to crying 
like the child he was. 

Dr. Preston admired the boy’s courage, but his 
tenderness of heart most of all. While he sincerely 
regretted this painful scene, it increased his love and 
respect for the handsome boy, whose sad face had 
never ceased to haunt his silent, wakeful hours. 
This love struck its roots deep and wide in the gen- 
erous heart of Dr. Preston,' growing stronger day by 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


n 

j day. He resolved to stand by the Waltons for Sid- 
i ney’s sake, though he said not a word about it. He 
» would, if possible, save the family from ruin ; but if 
: the worst should come, he would at least save Sidney 
S from the wreck. He had no family ot his own ; he 
j would develope the splendid germ of manhood which 
1 he had discovered in this boy. 

i Leaving Sidney at his office, he returned to the 
I tavern and was happy to find that Walton had not 
I yet tasted a drop of liquor. He soon prevailed on 
I the wretched man to return home with Sidney. No 
one dared to tell him of the scene that had just oc- 
curred between his son and the landlord, for, harsh 
as he might be at times, he would not allow any one 
else to misuse or speak ill of the boy. 

Unfortunate man ! The tether of fate has slipped 
another knot in the toils that bind him hand and foot. 
His condition becomes more and more desperate. 
The storm rises slowly. At first, a cloud, not larger 
than a man’s hand ; now the whole horizon is swept 
by the storm-cloud, that grows denser and blacker 
day by day. 


CHAPTER XII. 

THE DETECTIVES. 

‘‘This work requires dissembling looks, 

Commixt with undermining actions. 

Watching advantages to execute.” 

^ this Detective Longley?” 

I “ I am a detective and my name is Longley. 
Have a seat, sir.” 

You sent for me ? ” said the stranger, seating him- 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 

self very near the boss detective and looking him full 
in the face. 

Yes. You got my letter, I suppose ? ” 

I did, and have answered the message in person, 
and by coming at once. What can I do for you ? ” 
‘^The business about which I wrote gives promise 
of a rich harvest. You will start for Mt. Astar on 
the next train. You will assume the guise of a 
drummer, representing a Baltimore house. Sell 
Piper a bill of liquors on easy terms, but take no 
money. After you have accomplished the object of 
your mission, go away and write to the landlord 
informing him that the house for which you were 
doing business has failed. I cannot return to Mt. 
Astar without exciting suspicion, as I have already 
been there three times. Keep a sharp eye on old 
Piper. He is as cunning as a fox and as treacherous 
as the devil. If you can outwit this man, you need 
have no fears of the future ; you will have proved 
yourself a match for the best. He is the most sus- 
picious man of strangers I ever met. I think he has 
been guilty of some great crime himself and lives in 
hourly dread of arrest and punishment. It requires 
prudence, judgment and skill to do a small town like 
this, where every man knows before night what his 
neighbor had for breakfast. It is the part of wisdom 
to listen a great deal and say but little. I have not 
a doubt but Walton was the principal actor in the 
crime I mentioned to you in my letter, but I have 
not yet secured sufficient evidence to warrant his 
arrest. He keeps his secret well. He is one of the 
most remarkable criminals I ever hunted. I have 
become deeply interested in him. He don’t know 


THE BATTLE OE LIEE. 


77 

j me, of course, but I know him as well, almost, as 
I ever one man knew another. I have dogged his 
I heels for years. While captain of a steamer, I trav- 
j eled thousands of miles on his boat. He is a gen- 
1 tleman in his manners, and always treated me most 
kindly. I used to feel sorry for him as I lay awake 
of nights listening to the sound of his footsteps as he 
walked up and down the boat, long after midnight, 
i groaning and sighing in the most heart-broken, 
piteous manner; but never a word escaped his lips 
' relative to the crime which I knew to be the sole 
cause of all his trouble. At Louisville I dogged 
; his heels during months of reckless dissipation. I 
felt almost sure of catching him then, but all at once 
he reformed, married an accomplished lady of excel- 
lent family and commenced life anew, and under the 
most favorable circumstances. I now felt like, I 
, ought to let the fellow alone for his wife’s sake, but 
the big reward was too tempting a morsel for me to 
resist. I quieted my conscience with the thought 
that he was certainly guilty of a great crime, and 
deserved to be severely punished, and so I kept trail 
of him. until he removed to Mt. Astar. Having been 
called off to work up several other cases, of more 
recent occurrence, I lost the run of him, and had 
almost forgotten the Captain entirely, when a cir- 
cumstance occurred which not only called to mind 
the past but urged me to return to the unfinished 
task.” 

“ How did you first get a clew to this mysterious 
case ? ” inquired the strange detective, evidently 
much interested in the conversation. 

‘‘That’s the best part of my story,” continued 


7^ THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 

Longley. At first the crime presented the appear- 
ance of a profound mystery. I was never more puz- 
zled in my life. I was literally groping in the dark. 
The first clew was thedisoovery thrat the murder had 
been committed by a student of Yale college. Cir- 
cumstances led me to this conclusion and the more 
I investigated the matter the more I became con- 
vinced of this fact. This was the first clue. I now 
procured a catalogue containing a list of the students 
in attendance that year, and with the assistance of 
several members of the detective force, I traced each 
of those students to their respective homes,, and 
marked down all who led reckless and irregular lives. 
In the course of time, this list was pruned down to 
two individuals : Capt. Walton, of Mt. Astar, Ohio, 
and James Tomlin, of New York. The last named 
was either an accomplice or a witness to the crime, 
most likely the latter. He has no trade or profes- 
sion ; no fortune in his own name ; no wealthy rela- 
tives or friends ; yet he is always well supplied with 
money. He does not win this money at cards, for 
he never engages in games of chance. Where does 
it come from ? It is hush-money. It comes from the 
fast-decreasing store of Amos Walton. I dogged the 
footsteps of Tomlin for several years. The other day 
I saw him take a letter from the post-office, open the 
envelope and take therefrom a check, which he placed 
in his pocket-book, throwing the torn envelope away 
as a thing of no value. When no one observed me, 

I stooped and picked up the envelope. It was post- 
marked Mt. Astar, Ohio. I strolled into the bank 
next day. After exchanging a few common-place 
remarks with the banker, I enquired the financial 


TBE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


19 


standing of Tomlin, excusing my curiosity by saying 
that he owed a client of mine a considerable sum of 
money. 

“ ‘ Well,’ said the banker, ‘ Tomlin is good for all 
the debts he contracts at home. He has money on 
hand at present, I suppose. We cashed a check for 
him this morningsfor six hundred dollars.’ 

“Who* from? I asked, in the same breath, hoping 
to snap him up before he had time to think, but to no 
purpose. The banker looked me square in the face 
and said : 

We do all we can to accornmodate the public, 
sir, but nothing to gratify idle curiosity.’ 

“ Foiled at this end of the line, I took the train at 
once for Mt. Astar, I represented myself as the 
agent of a Pennsylvania mining company; a man of 
science and skill, come to prospect that region for 
coal. I asked old Piper many questions, among oth- 
ers, who owned the mansion and hedged farm near 
the village. I knew without asking — knew that it 
had been the property of Capt. Walton — but I 
wanted to set that tongue of Piper’s running in the 
hope of learning something about the six hundred 
dollars. . The landlord soon fell to talking about the 
Waltons ; how the captain had run through with a 
vast fortune, and more of the same sort, when I cut 
him short by asking : ‘ Is the captain short of means ?’ 

“ ‘ I should say so,’ blurted old Piper, with much 
energy, showing no little malice and delight at the 
thought. ‘ Last week I loaned him six hundred dol- 
lars; I have a deed of trust on all the land he owns.’ 

“ In the language of the day, I ‘struck oil.’ The 
chain of evidence is now complete. We have only 


8o 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


to play our cards with skill and prudence to capture 
the pot. The prize is worth the effort — a cool 
000. I will watch Tomlin while you work on Walton. 
The poor fellow has taken to drink again, and is 
more reckless than ever. Make Piper’s tavern your 
headquarters. Piper sells whiskey and Walton comes 
there to drink. Get acquainted, drink with him, and 
when he is drunk, search his pockets. The rest I 
leave to your own judgment. Good-bye.” 


CHAPTER Xm. 

MURDERED. 

“ He has made worm’s meat of me. Ask for me to-morrow, and 
you will find me a grave man.” 

W HEN Parker returned from Memphis he 
found his household a wreck. His wife 
and child were gone ; his housekeeper dead 
and buried and his name the theme of endless gos- 
sip for miles around. He soon discovered that his 
days of usefulness were over in that locality. His 
sins were fast finding him out. He did not regret 
the loss of his wife and child — indeed, he considered 
it a good riddance — his only concern being how to 
get rid of both without losing his property. He was 
resolved that neither should ever inherit a dollar of 
his if he could prevent it. He left the plantation 
soon after his return, but without letting a soul know 
when he left or whither he went. His overseer grad- 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE, 


8i 


ually diminished the stock by private sales, and the 
negroes were quietly sent away, one at a time, until 
nothing remained but the land, and this, too, was dis- 
posed of at private sale. 

Before the people of Clinton had time to form an 
opinion relative to Parker’s plans, he had disappear- 
ed, leaving not a vestige behind to remind them of 
their former neighbor. 

The Embrees were slow, plodding people. They 
took no legal process to secure the interests of Mrs. 
Parker and her child in the estate ; indeed, they knew 
nothing of Parker’s movements or intentions until 
his property had been transferred into other hands — 
until he had disappeared with the money thus ob- 
tained in exchange for stock and land. He had an- 
ticipated trouble and was prepared for it. He had 
previously bought a plantation in one of the interior 
counties of Mississippi, to ' which he transferred his 
slaves, and to which he removed after his overseer 
had made the necessary preparations for his recep- 
tion. 

When once safe from the probaj^le effects of his 
housekeeper’s confession, Parker resolved to steal his 
child from its mother, the better to prevent it from 
inheriting his large estate. Felix was illegitimate 
and could not take precedence over the son of his 
lawful wife, should this child ever lay claim to the 
property. It was his desire to bestow his entire es- 
tate upon Felix. The grand-son of ’Squire Embree 
should not inherit a shilling of his wealth. To estop 
all such claims in the future, he resolved to steal the 
child. He did not want the custody of the boy. He 
did not intend to raise the child, nor pay for its sup- 

5 


82 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE, 


port. He had a plan in perfect keeping with his own 
wicked, vindictive nature, by which he meant to dis- 
pose of the boy and prevent trouble or loss of prop- 
erty in the future. 

He was afraid to attempt the abduction himself, 
but was willing to pay a liberal price to the right 
kind of a man, who would undertake the business, 
which was both doubtful and iiazardous, owing to 
the presence of 'Squire Embree and his two sons. 
If he could only find Tobe Wingate, the young man 
who had so successfully planned the abduction of 
Felix, all would be well. Employ whom he might, 
it would never do to blunder in the business. Tobe 
Wingate was the only man of his acquaintance whom 
he felt perfectly willing to trust, hence he sought 
diligently until he had found him. 

Wingate was willing to undertake the job if suffi- 
ciently compensated. So it was finally agreed that 
Tobe should steal the child for two thousand dol- 
lars; failing in the attempt, he should receive noth- 
ing. 

Wingate procured the assistance of Lem. Foley, 
his companion in crime and assistant in stealing 
Felix Parker from his mother. Both were active, 
intelligent young men, but hardened villains, and, 
like Parker, fugitives from justice. 

Wingate was a gunsmith, but had not worked at 
his trade for several years. His handicraft, however, 
answered a good purpose. He went to Clinton and 
procured work at his trade. He was delighted to 
find that no one in the town knew him, or had ever 
heard of him before. He made few acquaintances 
and appeared wholly devoted to business. After 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE, 


83 

establishing himself, he wrote to Foley to join him 
at once. When the accomplice arrived, Wingate 
introduced him as an old friend in quest of work. 
Foley went out to the Embree mansion and applied 
for employment. They did not need his labor, but 
he insisted, almost begged to be- engaged, offering 
to work a month for his board. The old man did 
not like his looks, and would have sent him on his 
way directly, but his son David insisted on giving 
the poor fellow a trial. It was finally agreed that he 
should take care of the horses and drive the family 
carriage. 

I So far the plans of Wingate were successful. 

! Foley reported to him two or three times a week, 
i He had found out where Mrs. Parker slept, and the 
, doors through which he must pass to reach her bed- 
chamber. He had also carefully examined the 
means of exit through the back-yard and garden, 

! into a field of standing corn. 

; All things were now ready. Foley had previ- 
ously taken impressions of the key-holes in wax, and* 
! Wingate had made keys with which to open the 
doors. 

Wingate now procured a fast horse and a complete 
I horseman’s rig, including a pair of holsters. It was 
I arranged for him to throw down the fence, and ride 
up through the cornfield to the rear of the house and 
garden. Several pickets were' pried from the garden 
fence, making an aperture large enough to pass the 
body of Foley. Wingate would not dismount un- 
less Foley was intercepted ; then he would come to 
his assistance, and together they would fight their 
way out. When Foley had given him the child he 


84 


THE BATLE OF LIFE. 


would put spurs to his horse and escape down the 
turnpike, while the latter would flee through the 
plantatation on foot and escape in an opposite direc- 
tion. 

All things being now arranged, they chose the 
first dark night to attempt the abduction. Foley 
stole quietly out to the garden fence, at the appointed 
time, and found Wingate waiting at the broken 
panel. After exchanging a few words in a whisper, 
Foley returned to the house. He took off his shoes 
and tied them to his belt. The doors wei>e passed 
without giving alarm. He moved his dark lantern 
slowly and cautiously about until the light fell upon 
the bed. He had hoped to find the mother and. child 
in separate couches, but to his amazement and con- 
sternation, the child lay on its mother’s bosom as 
though she had just embraced it with a kiss. The 
position of mother and child rendered it impossible 
for Foley to remove the infant without alarming the 
household, but he did not hesitate or falter in his 
desperate purpose. Creeping to the bed-side, he 
moved his lantern around the wall so as to get the 
exact position of the door, then upon the sleeping 
child. All things being now ready, he quietly placed 
the lantern on the floor, and bending Tow, seized the 
child and rushed hurriedly from the room. 

The mother sprang from the bed with a wild, 
piercing shriek, heard by every member of the fami- 
ly, then swooned and fell to the floor. 

David Embree reached the outer door just as Fo- 
ley passed into the garden. It did not occur to him 
at first what had happened, but the cry was soon 
raised by several of the female servants : 

“ The child is gone ! The child is stolen I 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE, 


85 


Young Embree ran out into the garden. No one 
could be seen in that direction. He paused to listen. 
The sound of horse’s feet could be distinctly heard 
in the direction of the corn field. The horseman was 
riding rapidly in the direction of the turnpike, which 
fortunately made a detour of nearly a half-mile in 
passing the Embree plantation. By a rapid run of 
less than a quarter of a mile he might possibly strike 
the public highway ahead of the thief. Rushing back 
through the house, he snatched a pistol from the wall 
and made directly for the stone bridge, which afford- 
ed the only opportunity of intercepting the fugitive. 
He was fleet of foot and ran at the top of his speed. 
The bridge was reached in advance of Wingate, who, 
supposing there was no longer the least danger, had 
reined his horse into a slow trot. When he neared 
the spot where Embree stood waiting, the horse be- 
came frightened and suddenly paused on the thresh- 
old of the bridge. It was a critical moment in the 
fate of both. Embree sprang forward from the dark 
shadow of the bridge, and seizing the horse by the 
bridle, said in a bold, firm voice : 

Halt ! ” 

Wingate plunged his spurs into the horse and tried 
to ride down his 'enemy, but he had to deal with a 
man of powerful strength and nerve. ^ Embree reined 
the horse back on his haunches.' He had ample time 
and opportunity to shoot Wingate, but was fearful 
lest he might maim or kill the child. 

It was too dark for him to observe the movements 
of his adversary, and he was too much excited to 
think of his own danger. Wingate lent forward un- 
til his revolver was within a few feet of Embree’s 


86 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


breast and fired. It was a fatal shot. Embree fell 
to the earth mortally wounded. He was found direct- 
ly after, still alive and conscious, but dying — the in- 
nocent victim of his sister’s folly and Parker’s sin. 


CHAPTER XIV. 

FAREWELL TO THE OLD HOME^ 


“ Cursed be the social wai\ts, 

That sin against the strength of youth ; 
Cursed be the social lies, 

' That warp us from the living truth.” 


AD the Angel of Death visited Capt. Walton 
and claimed him for the spirit world, there 
had been less real sorrow in the crushed and 
bleeding hearts of those who looked to him for sup- 
port, consolation and protection — yet looked in vain ! 

Since discovering that Piper knew his secret, Wal- 
ton became utterly hopeless of the future, and more 
reckless than ever before. The meek, uncomplain- 
ing spirit of his wife rebuked him more than words — 
more than blows. There was no refuge for him, poor 
man! none save in oblivious drunkenness; and even 
in dissipation, while, the sense of thought remained, 
his wife seemed ever between him and the flowing 
bowl. Her hands seemed to lay hold of his skirts 
whenever he crossed the threshold of the tayern, and 
a voice, low and gentle and earnest, pled with him 
not to drink. Her sad eyes, dimmed with tears, 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. S7 

looked full into his, looked deep down into his guilty 
heart while he was trying to be merry — striving to 
make others laugh. In the interludes of clinking 
glasses came the piteous wail of his children, crying 
themselves to sleep in their dreary, cheerless home. 
To a conscientious man like Walton, these re- 
proaches, imaginary and real, were more painful than 
death itself, and so the bottle became more and more 
his refuge, oblivious drunkenness his only consola- 
tion. When thus intoxicated, even his wife’s meek- 
ness became offensive, and the purity and gentle- 
ness of Sidney’s nature a reproach, which, in the 
madness of delirium, he felt that he had a father’s 
right to resent and punish. The boy was accused of 
ignoring his father’s authority, even after his sire had 
ceased to exercise such authority, and was often 
beaten for doing his duty as it seemed best; to his 
young and inexperienced mind. These things bore 
heavily upon Sidney’s mind, and his mother saw, 
with feelings of sorrow and alarm, that the boy was 
growing desperate. He had inherited much of his 
mother’s patience — much of her gentleness of spirit 
— but his forgiving disposition was now being tried 
beyond the limits of human endurance. As long as 
there remained a shadow of hope of saving his fath^ 
er, he had borne all without resentment and without 
a murmur, but the course of his father was from bad 
to worse, seeming ever downward even to the end of 
his wretched life. His fine promises, made when his 
guilty conscience was wrung with remorse, had all 
been forgotten. The hopes thus kindled in the boy’s 
heart were rudely blasted, when once again the demon 
of strong drink assumed dominion over his unfortun- 
ate sire. 


88 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


Sidney often retired at night, utterly crushed in 
spirit, dreading the light of another day — sometimes 
wishing that he were dead — but at early dawn his 
mother would slip quietly into his room and wake 
him with a loving kiss, saying: 

“ God bless you, my dear boy ! you are all the 
world to me !” 

Instantly all his resentment, all the bitterness of 
his heart, would vanish like an unpleasant dream, 
and with a brave, heroic purpose he would renew the 
struggle where he had left off the day before. 

Mrs. Walton had taught her son to put his trust in 
God. The Christian example which she had contin- 
ually set before his eyes, was good seed sown in gen- 
erous soil. Her God was his God, though he could 
not always say with her: Thy will be done.” It is 
often a hard prayer to the wronged, the outraged and 
the persecuted. Nothing but a mother’s love and a 
mother’s trusting faith could have raised the spiritual 
nature of Sidney Walton above the painful feelings 
of resentment that knocked, day and night, at the por- 
tals of his bruised and bleeding heart ; but this love 
had so far more than balanced against a father’s ha- 
tred, for the one was constant, the other capricious. 

Dr. Preston, in a fit of confidence, told Sidney that 
Piper held a deed of trust on their house and land. 
It fell upon the boy’s senses like a thunderbolt. He 
did not wait for the words of consolation and hope 
with which the good doctor meant to couple this sad 
news, but rushing home, with tears and sobs, the 
broken-hearted boy related all that Dr. Preston had 
told him, ending with the question hardest of all 
questions to answer : 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 89 

“ Oh mother ! dear mother ! what is to become of 
us now ?” 

Placing her thin, white fingers in the boy’s hair, 
which hung in soft silken curls about his beautiful 
forehead, she brushed back the pliant, golden locks 
! without speaking. Sidney, kneeling at her side, sob- 
bed as though his heart was breaking. At last, when 
1 this paroxism of grief had subsided, had passed into 
i that stern, rigid, hopeless calm, that prelude to despair, 
which Mrs. Walton dreaded more than tears, she said 
to him : 

' “ Sidney, the Psalmist says : 

j “ ‘ I have been young, and now I am old ; yet I have not seen the 
righteous forsaken, nor their seed begging bread.’ ” 

I The simple, trusting faith of the pious mother was 
very consoling to the wretched boy, who had just 
begun to realize a weight of responsibility far too 
I heavy for one of tender years ; but there was more 
in the caress and loving kiss than in the scripture 
just quoted, for the promise of food and protection 
to the righteous soon faded from his mind, standing 
as he did in the presence of want and misery. 

Mrs. Walton, with all her faith in divine protection, 
agreed with Sidney that Piper would soon foreclose 
the mortgage, but of the future, when houseless and 
penniless, she could only say, “ God will provide a 
way by which we may preserve both life and honor; 
let us do all we can and trust God for what we can- 
not do.” 

What a sad change time had wrought in the affairs 
of this family. Mrs. Walton had come to Mt. Astar 
when Sidney was an infant. Not a cloud had yet 
appeared to darken her social and domestic life. She 


90 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE, 


was wedded to a handsome, intelligent gentleman ; a 
man of excellent family, proud of his many excellent 
qualifications which made him the peer, of the best. 
Mrs. Walton had been used to all the luxuries of high 
life. She found in her new home all the comforts of 
the old, and she was mistress of all she surveyed, 
and, best of all, she was mistress of this proud man’s 
heart. Lovely children were growing up around her, 
and never were children more fondly cherished. 
Their father would not trust them out of his sight. 
He remembered the rocks upon which he had been 
so nearly wrecked, and resolved to bring up his chil- 
dren in the seclusion of home life. They were taught 
by private tutors, hired and generously paid for that 
purpose. None of them had ever gone a day to the 
public school. 

The family was so exclusive in prosperity, that, 
when the storm of adversity came, their envious 
neighbors had little sympathy for them in their 
troubles. Sidney declared, in the bitterness of his 
heart, that he could never live at Mt. Astar unless 
independent and above the reach of this envious 
malice, which, with a few noble exceptions, pervaded 
the entire neighborhood. He could not face the 
rabble, who were already making merry over their 
poverty ; gloating, like insatiable harpies, over their 
misfortunes, pointing with glee at the patches on his 
coat — sad evidences of poverty which the proud boy 
could not conceal. He declared with tears that he 
had rather die than remain at Mt. Astar another day 
after Piper should disppssess them of their home. 

Mrs. Walton was proud of Sidney’s spirit ; proud 
of their pride, poor ^as they were. She saw in the 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


91 

boy’s bright, flashing eye that, young as he was, and 
inexperienced, he was nerved for the fierce struggle 
near at hand ; but the good woman did not know how 
many sleepless nights he had spent devising ways 
and means to keep the wolf from the door. She did 
not know how many bitter tears he had shed in the 
still hours of the night, calling frantically upon God 
for strength and courage to fight the unequal battle 
forced upon him through no fault of his own. She 
could only guess how bitter and sad and cheerless 
had been the struggle through which he passed; but 
there was no mistaking the resolution he had arrived 
at. Like a wise woman, she resolved to let him have 
his way. She trembled at the thought of parting, 
dreaded above all things to see him go out into a 
strange, friendless world to battle for himself, and 
labor for her and her helpless children, but she knew, 
without asking, that such was his intention. She 
would do all in her power to smooth the way. She 
had wealthy brothers and brothers-in-law in Ken- 
tucky. She \xould write to them of her misfortunes. 
She would not ask for help — she was too proud to 
beg — but she would ask them to secure a place for 
Sidney and assist the lad in his eflbrts to assist him- 
self. Her relatives had discarded her for marrying 
Capt. Walton, but they could not help liking Sidney. 
The boy’s handsome face and noble bearing would 
win their admiration, and his sweetness of disposition 
the hearts of all his kindred. The Hensleys would, 
perhaps, become reconciled, through Sidney, to her 
and her sad fate, and when the evil day should come, 
she would return to Louisville and assist her son in 
his eflbrts to support the family. There she could 
do much — at Mt. Astar nothing at all. 


92 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


Sidney listened in respectful silence. He had 
plans of his own, but said nothing. He had always 
believed it to be his bounden duty to shield his 
mother, if possible, from all that would give her pain. 
He was not, so he reasoned, in duty bound to pre- 
sent his own plans in opposition to those of Mrs. 
Walton, the outlines of which have just been given. 

When it was agreed between Mrs. Walton and 
Sidney that he should leave home, he urged that he 
might go at once. 

Mrs. Walton was almost crazed with grief at the 
thought of parting. She prepared for the ordeal 
with a heart almost as sad as if she was preparing 
her boy for the grave. 

The father knew nothing of his son’s plans ; indeed, 
he knew but little of his wretched household of late, 
spending most of his time at the tavern, returning 
home only when Piper refused him shelter, which he 
did as often as the poor wretch became a burden. 
Not having the courage now to resent such treat- 
ment, he usually vent his rage at home, swearing 
at Mrs. Walton and beating Sidney. No wonder 
the boy was anxious to get away, for the worst that 
could befall him elsewhere was better than he was 
daily receiving at the hands of his unnatural father. 

If Mrs. Walton suffered at thought of parting, 
her grief was equally shared by Sidney, though he 
did not speak of it to a living soul. The love of 
home-life had taken deep hold upon the boy’s heart, 
and to uproot this passion was to do violence to his 
generous nature. The more he thought of separating 
from the loved ones at home^ the more he dreaded 
the ordeal. The thought did not shake his resolu- 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


93 


! tion,.but he faltered, trembled, at the idea of saying 
^ farewell. It looked cold, almost hard-hearted, to 
I steal away, but the parting scene be avoided ; 

I it was too much for his sensitive nature, and, besides, 

' he felt that it would be best for all concerned. 
There was another point about which he felt equally 
solicitous, equally nervous : he wished to get as far 
' from home as possible before his father discovered 
i his absence ; hence it was best to go away slyly, that 
I his mother might, if she wished, acquit herself of all 
I complicity in his flight. Such were the arguments 
that presented themselves to his mind and heart in 
favor of leaving by stealth, and he resolved to go at 
once. 

i Dr. Preston was sitting alone in his office one 
morning, when Sidney knocked timidly at the door. 

^ Supposing it to be a professional call, the doctor 
said, in a gruff, careless tone of voice : 

“ Come in.” 

Preston sat with his back to the door. He was in 
i an ill humor this morning. He had gotten up late, 

I and was feeling cross and ugly as a bear. He had 
I tugged at his boot-straps until red in the face, and 
! had only succeeded in getting on one of them. He 
^ was now holding the other in his hand, as if studying 
! some new epithets for its especial benefit, having ex- 
; hausted the vocabulary on the first offender. 

Sidney paused in the doorway, half afraid to enter. 

The doctor at last turned, and, recognizing his 
young friend, said in a mild and gentle tone of voice, 
strangely in contrast with the fiery oaths he had just 
uttered : 

“ Excuse me, Sidney ; pardon, my dear boy ! I 


94 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


did not know it was you ! ” and, rising from his seat, 
he took the lad by both hands and continued : 
“ What brings you’here so early, Sidney ? — but, come 
to think, it is not early ; I have slept late — that’s all. 
Anybody sick at your house ? ” 

“ We are all well, thank you.” 

“ Except your father, Sidney ! I fear your father 
will never be well again. He was on a ‘high old 
tare’ last night with that Baltimore drummer. They 
were carousing long after mid-night — ” but, noticing 
the shadow of pain that flashed over the boy’s face, 
he quickly added — “ I ask your pardon, Sidney. I 
ought not to have mentioned this to you.” 

“No harm now, doctor. We know the worst and 
are prepared for it. I should hate to become a bur- 
den to you, doctor,” continued the boy, in a slow, 
tremulous tone of voice, as though his words were 
choking him, “ but if you could loan me ten dollars 
for a few months I would appreciate it as a great 
favor.” 

“ With pleasure, Sidney — with great pleasure ! If 
you need more, say so and I will make it twice, 
thrice the sum.” 

“ I thank you very kindly, sir, but ten dollars will 
be enough,” said the boy, brightening under the kind 
words and genial smile of the doctor, who was fish- 
ing up wads of bank notes from his vest pocket. At 
last, having found the exact sum, he handed'it to 
Sidney, saying : “ Yours truly.” 

Sidney again expressed his thanks, and bowing 
low to the doctor, .quietly left the room. No ques- 
tions were asked, no explanations given. 

Late that night the depot agent at Mt. Astar was 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE, 


95 

, surprised to see Sidney Walton step up to the win- 
i dow and ask for a ticket to Cincinnati. 

; In ten minutes the boy was rolling away ‘from the 
: old home as fast as steam could take him. 

He took out his mother’s letters and read them 
over carefully. Then after a few minute’s earnest 
; thought, tore them into a thousand pieces and 
I threw the fragments out through the car window. 

I 


CHAPTER XV. 

A PROTRACTED DRUNK. 

Olivia. — “ What’s a drunk man like, fool ?” 

Clown. — “Like a drown’d man, a fool, and a madman: one 
draught above heat makes him a fool ; the second mads him ; and a 
third drowns him.”^ 

^ ^ /^LD BEESWAX, the Captain and I want a 
room, supper, and plenty" to drink ! Do 
you hear me ?” 

'' At what hour, sir ?” 

Let it be forthcoming, and piping hot. Do you 
understand ?” 

Of course.” 

And a basket of wine, Peppersauce.” 

^‘Sir !” 

“ Some wine, Gingersnap.” 

“ Stranger, you are merry to-night.” 

Stranger !” 

** That’s what I said.” 

How often does a follow have to get drunk in 


96 THE BA TTLE OF LIFE. 

this house to form the acquaintance of the daddy of 
all the Pilgrims ?” 

“ Oh, gi\re us a Rest 

Ha ! ha ! ha ! Good for old Pippin ! Walton, how 
long has it been since Piper last saw his knees? In 
other words, how much younger is that belly of his 
than his back ?” 

Piper has always had a ‘ fair round belly/ 

“ ^ With good capon lined,’ eh ? ” 

‘‘No, beefsteak and pudding.” 

Gentlemen, I am glad to see you so merry. It 
is not often that Capt. Walton tries to be jovial, yet he 
is as gay a lark as lives, when he will. He sings like 
a full-grown angel, and can dance a hornpipe or reel 
equal to the wildest buck that ever cut the pigeon 
wing at a country hoe-down.” 

‘‘Thanks, Peppersauce. The Captain shall do the 
honors of our feast to-night. The bird that ca7i sing 
and won't, shall be — persuaded to warble.” 

“ You call me by many names, yet I have not ven- 
tured to call you by any other than ‘ Stranger.’ As 
you did not register, I am compelled to ask your 
name.” 

“Sir!” 

“ What shall I call you ?” 

“ Don’t call me at all, Peppersauce ; I will come 
without calling.” 

“ What’s the gentleman’s name. Captain?” 

“ Ball-ti-;;^<?r^.” 

“ Don’t you wish you had more of the same sort?” 

“ No, God forbid I” 

“ Good for old Pippin 1 ha 1 ha ! ha I (sings): 

“ My jiame it is Joe Bowers ; 

I’m all the way from Pike — “ 


THE BATTLE OE LITE. 


97 


Gentlemen, your supper is ready.” 

”Is the house insured, landlord ?” 

** No, nor my victuals either.” 

“ Then may God love, guard and protect thee ! 
for Walton and I are going to make a night of it; 
going to eat, drink and be merry. — Good-night, 
Daddy Sparrowgrass ! ” 

Piper was. as cunning as a fox, put detective Keat- 
ing had by the above conversation thrown him com- 
pletely off his guard. If Piper was deceived, how 
much more must Walton have been mistaken as to 
the true character of this jovial stranger. When they 
were alone in the room, and the cloth had been re- 
moved, Keating plied the bottle freely on his victim, 
pretending to drink glass about with him. The 
handsome stranger became more and more reckless 
as the night advanced — ^at least Walton thought so, 
and bore him company. At Keating’s request, he 
sang and danced. The detective laughed inordi- 
nately; cheered, stamped the floor, beat his com- 
panion over the shoulders with his hat, and at last, 
growing more familiar and loving, hugged the drunk 
man, calling him his dear, good, splendid brother. 
Walton did not know that Keating was examining 
the contents of his pockets; indeed he hardly knew 
that the detective had touched him at all. After a 
while there was a lull in the riotous mirth of both, 
and Walton soon fell asleep in his chair. After call- 
ing to him several times, to make sure that he was 
really asleep, Keating quietly perused the papers 
which he had taken from his pockets. At first he 
discovered nothing of importance. He read on, 
however, until he at last came across a receipt — the 
6 


THE BATTLE OE LIFE. 


98 

very document his superior had hinted of. It was 
from Tomlin for six hundred dollars. This was evi- 
dence. He placed the paper in his pocket, then qui- 
etly and slyly returned all the others. 

The document was more than a receipt — it was a 
threat. There must be no delay about the next pay- 
ment, else he (Tomlin) would sell the secret to those 
who would pay better and more promptly. ^ 

Had Keating been content with this additional 
evidence, all might have been well for him and those 
he served, but he went a step further, and blundered 
in so doing. He waked his companion and plied 
him with questions. The manner of the detective 
was now so foreign from what it had been that Wal- 
ton, though still very drunk, noticed the change. 

Keating called Walton’s attention to the piece he 
had recently declaimed, and said : 

*^Upon my soul, Walton, it was well rendered. 
You are no ordinary man, I am sure. You have a 
fine mind, well cultivated, and a voice attuned to 
every emotion of the human heart. At what college 
did you graduate ? ” ^ 

‘‘ Did not grad-(/^zV)-uate at all. Was three years 
at Yale (Jiic) College.” 

Is it possible ! Why, I was a student of Yale 
myself.” 

** I never knew you there.” 

No?” 

After a moment’s silence, Keating looked Walton 
full in the face and said : 

** Did you know young Prentiss Duvall? ” 

Walton turned deadly pale. His lips opened as 
if to speak, then closed again. He looked about 


THE BATTLE OE LIFE. 


99 


him, as if in doubt what to say or do, then reached 
for a glass on the table. The detective watched him 
narrowly. The glass was empty, but in his confusion 
Walton did not notice it. He turned the glass to 
his lips and pretended to drink ; then taking it slowly 
from his mouth, said in a voice scarcely above a 
whisper : 

“ I never knew him ! ” 

Walton was now thoroughly alarmed. He rose 
from his seat and walked the floor. Finally excusing 
himself, “for a few minutes,” he left the room and 
did not return. 

Keating attributed all this to remorse of conscience. 
Not doubting but his game was secure, he went at 
once to the boarding house of the telegraph operator 
and roused him from his bed, saying he had an im- 
portant message to send off that night; urging that 
he could not wait until morning. The following tel- 
egram was sent over the wires : 

To E. M. Longley, , New York: 

Shall I arrest ? Have obtained new and "important evidence. T. 
must be arrested and held to corroborate testimony. 

Keating. 

In a few minutes the following answer came back 
over the wires : 

Arrest your man. Will make sure of T. 

E. M. Longley. 


Between the hours of mid-night and day, Dr. Pres- 
ton was awakened by loud knocking at his door. 
On opening, he found Capt. Walton standing at the 
threshold. 

“ Doctor,” said he, almost in a whisper, “ I want 
to speak to you, confidentially.” 


100 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 

‘^All right, Captain; walk in,” said Preston, open- ! 
ing the door a little wider to let him pass. 

Preston was bothered not a little by this strange 
visit He knew how desperate Walton was at times, 
and thinking that he had perhaps heard of Sidney’s 
flight, and of the assistance he had rendered the boy, 
the doctor could account for this unseasonable visit 
only by supposing that Walton had come for a row. 

His fears were groundless,^ however. Walton i 
knew nothing of Sidney’s flight, although the boy j 
had left the night before. After staring vacantly i 
around him for several seconds, he said : 

Can I speak to you confidentially? ” 

“ Certainly, Captain ; have a seat,” and placing a 
chair for his visitor, and seating himself near by, the i 
doctor assumed an attitude of profound attention. | 
Drawing very close, Walton said in a voice trembling j 
with emotion : | 

.“Doctor, I am going away from here. I am a j 
ruined man if I remain longer, perhaps if I go ; but j 
my family must never know why I left home. I am 
not afraid to confide in you, for I know you are an 
honorable man and a friend to me and mine. I know 
that you will keep a secret, which, if told, would j 
injure the character and standing of my family. I ' 
have no right to expect favors for my own sake, but | 
I do expect you to keep my secret for their sake. ! 
Say that you will, and I will tell you all.” ' 

“ I promise.” 

“ That you will not divulge what I am going to tell 
you to-night, relative to a great crime which I com- 
mitted years ago ? j 

“ Never, so help me God ! ” i 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE, 


lOI 


“ Well,” said the wretched man, lowering his voice 
almost to a whisper, “ I murdered a fellow-student, a 
class-mate of mine, while at Yale College 1 Prentiss 
Duvall was the young man’s name. I cut his throat 
one dark, rainy night and left him dead in the street. 
Another student saw me strike the fatal blow. The 
witness of my crime still lives. I have paid for this 
man’s silence until I can pay no more. When he 
learns this he will sell me to the Duvalls, who are rich 
and eager to haver me hanged !” 

The secret rests with you and this solitary wit- 
ness you speak of?” 

“Alas, no ! Old Piper knows all about it.” 

“ How in the devil’s name did he get hold of it?” 

“ I know not. Doctor, but he knows all.” 

“ What do you mean to do. Captain ?” 

! “ I have come to ask you to put the breaks on old 

: Piper, if you can, and keep the old villain silent; 

^ also prevent him, if possible, from foreclosing his 
; deeds of trust untill I can lift those notes. My family 
I must not know where I am. I will send them money 
' through you if I am fortunate enough to earn any. 

, Sidney is brisk about business. If not disturbed by 
' Piper he will do better without me ; but the boy 
j must never know that I am a criminal and a fugitive 
J from justice. It would crush him to know what I 
I have just related to you.” 

The Doctor did not hint to the conscience-stricken 
father that his son was many miles away, driven off 
by his own harsh treatment. It would do *no good ; 
it could only add another burden to his guilty soul. 
He would send him away as happy as kind words 
and honest, faithful promises could make him. He 


102 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


would keep the secret just revealed to him and make 
Piper do the same. 

Thanking Dr. Preston with tears of gratitude for 
his kindness, Walton bade him farewell, perhaps 
forever. 


CHAPTER XVI. 


EARLY OPENS THE PACKAGE. 


“ Besides, this Duncan bore his honors, faculties, all, so meekly, 
that his virtues plead like angels, trumpet-tongued, against the deep 
damnation of his taking off.” 

QO LBERT EARLY did not know the contents of 
the sealed package which he received from 
the hands of Col. Duvall previous to his 
death, but he could reasonably guess what it con- 
tained. He was too intimate with the family to be 
entirely ignorant of a matter of so much importance 
to him and his. He knew very well that Col. Du- 
vall’s life had been clouded by a great sorrow; and 
he knew the cause of this trouble better, perhaps, 
than any one else living, save Mrs. Duvall, and he 
probably knew much that she did not, for his oppor- 
tunity of knowing and understanding this well-spring 
of sorrow had made him the confident of the Colonel 
— the repository of all his secrets. 

After the demise of Col. Duvall, Early set about 
fulfilling all his obligations and pledges, made to the 
deceased a few weeks previous to his death. He 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE, 


103 


moved to the plantation, administered on the estate 
and went to work with all his heart and soul to exe- 
cute the obligation contained in the sealed package. 

It was not until the third day after the body of 
Col. Duvall had been deposited between the graves 
of his wife and son, that Early felt disposed to ex- 
amine the package. He shut himself up in his 
chamber, and, after mentally vowing to God to faith- 
fully discharge the obligation, cost what it would, he 
broke the seal. 

A photograph of Prentiss Duvall fell from the 
envelope. 

The picture had been taken but a few days pre- 
vious to his death. Early remembered the very 
clothes he wore ; remembered the day the picture 
was taken, and for whom — he was the young man’s 
bosom friend and trusted confidant. 

He gazed long and sadly at the counterfeit pre- 
sentment of his dear young friend. 

The memory of that dark, rainy night, years ago, 
when he looked down into those glaring, sightless 
eye-balls and saw by the light of a policeman’s lan- 
tern, the death-wound which almost severed the 
young man’s head from his body — the memory of 
that dreadful scene again swept through his mind. 
Even the moaning, wailiifg sound of the wind seemed 
to echo in his ears. 

The dreadful picture of that stormy night was so 
forcibly revived, and the warm, tender feelings of 
youth returned with such power that he buried his 
face in his hands and wept like a child. 

There were several folds of paper. He examined 
them carefully. Blanks, all of them. He examined 


104 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE, 


the picture. Below the name, Prentiss Duvall,’’ 
was written the word “ over.” On the reverse side 
of the picture he read : 

'^Murdered like a dog. Avenge his death if you 
would deserve the love, and confidence of 

“Edward Duvall.” 


CHAPTER XVII. 


SCOTCHING THE OLD SERPENT. 


“ Tremble, thou wretch, that hath within thee undivulged crimes, 
unwhipped of justice ! 

/ I \ HE first news Dr. Preston received of Sidney 
JL Walton’s departure was a letter from the boy, 
written and mailed before leaving for Cincin- 
nati. It was a painful surprise to the good doctor, 
whose interest in Sidney had deepened from day to 
day until it had almost taken complete possession 
of his warm, generous heart. He had lain awake of 
nights thinking how he could best befriend this 
bright, handsome boy withput shocking his sensi- 
tive pride for which he loved him most of all. The 
very moment the opportunity seemed at hand, it 
had probably passed away again, and forever. The 
small loan was all the boy had asked — all he had 
ever given. The desire of his heart was to be a 
father to this unhappy boy, yet he had barely the 
privilege of being a friend, Sidney’s letter was 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE, 


105 


earnest, sincere, honest. Just what Dr. Preston 
expected, under the circumstances, but the good 
man’s disappointment was none the less real — indeed 
it was more imbittered and intensified than ever by 
reading it. The happy dream of adopting and rearing 
the lad to manhood as his own child, vanished the 
moment he broke the seal of this letter. It read as 
follows :• 

Dear Doctor Preston : — I cannot leave the old home without 
thanking you for your kindness. What I have done to deserve so 
much I don’t know, but I love you with all my heart, for your good- 
ness, and, God helping me, you shall never regret being my friend. If 
I ever amount to anything in the world, you shall have all thanks for 
it. I could never have borne what I have but for your help — but for 
your kind encouragement. Everything depends on me now. I must 
do something for myself, my mother and sisters, and for my little 
brother. Pa has wasted all our living. We cannot stay at the old home 
but a little longer. I don’t know what I’ll do. Something tells me to 
go. I can’t tell how it is. I just feel like I must go. It’s strange that 
a little fellow like me should want to go off without knowing where he 
is going, or why, yet I feel that I must do something, and there is noth- 
ing for me to do here. Don’t think me silly, please. It don’t seem a 
bit silly to me. I have had such a bad time here, I feel like nothing 
could be worse for me anywhere in the world. But please don’t think 
ill of pa for treating me badly ! I don’t ! I love him all the time. He 
loves me, too — I know he does — but he is often crazy with drink — ma 
says he is — and then he beats me ; but, thank God, he never beats ma 

never I— \ couldn’t love him jit all if he did — and he is not bad to my 

sisters either, nor to Artie — Artie is my little brother. He’s got eyes 
just like pa, and favors him very much. May be that’s why pa likes 
him better than me. He is the dearest, cutest, sweetest little fellow in 
the world ! When I get some money I will send it to you in a letter 
for what you loaned me, and I will send money to ma, too, when I get 
some. Now, dear Dr. Preston, don’t think me foolish for going away. 
It is the very best thing— the only thing— I could do. I ought to have 
told you good-bye, and all about it, but I thought you might think it 
was wrong to go away ; and if you had said no, I might not have gone 
at all, for I like you so much that I would do anything to please you. 
I could tell you a great deal more, but I have got lots to do before I 
start. I am going off on the cars to-night. I will never forget you as 
long as I live, God bless you ! Good bye ! 


Sidney Walton, 


io6 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


Denis Piper was neither more nor less, in the esti- 
mation of Dr. Preston, than a villain and a fugitive 
from justice. His career at Mt. Astar, his general 
conduct, his rapid accumulation of wealth, all pointed 
to this as the pnly reasonable solution of his strange 
history. The doctor had studied the character of 
Piper very closely. He had conceived the idea, years 
before, of driving the old villain from town, in order 
to save Capt. Walton from a drunkard’s grave. Al- 
though he drank a great deal himself, Preston hated 
the vice of intemperance with all his heart, and at 
times almost loathed himself for indulging such a de- 
basing habit. The patient suffering of Sidney Wal- 
ton, and the uncomplaining wretchedness of his 
mother, were lessons that impressed him more than 
all the stories of intemperance he had ever heard or 
read. 

It was very fortunate for him that he became ac- 
quainted with the Waltons ; that he had, in the good- 
ness of his heart, taken such deep interest in their 
welfare. It opened his eyes to his own great fault 
and appealed both to his honor and sympathy to quit 
a habit that might in the end ruin him as it had al- 
most ruined his friend. Thus, in trying to save Wal- 
ton, he had saved himself. 

As to Piper’s history, it was certain that he had 
once lived in the mountains of Virginia. Dr. Pres- 
ton had from time to time obtained sufficient inform- 
ation to warrant the belief that the landlord was a 
fugitive from justice. He had as yet no positive 
proof of this, but for the purpose of awing him into 
sifcnce, relative to Walton’s secret, he would assume 
to know a great deal. He would give old Piper a 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


107 


scare that would last the remainder of his life, and 
then crack his whip over the old villain’s head, keep- 
ing him in torment as he (Piper) had kept Capt. 
Walton, by threats of exposure. Arming himself 
with pistols, he walked down the street and'by the 
door of Piper’s tavern. At last, observing the coast 
clear, he walked in as though he had come for a 
drink. Piper bowed low to him as he entered and 
grinned one of his blandest smiles. Rubbing his 
hands with delight, he said : 

“Very glad to see you, doctor; indeed I am! 
Thought you were mad at me 1 Have not seen you 
for a mohth of Sundays I What will you have this 
morning, doctor? It’s my treat if you will be kind' 
enough ’to name your .choice,” continued the obse- 
quious landlord, skipping around like a little dog 
trying to catch his tail. 

“ I have not come to exchange compliments, Denis 
Piper, nor do I wish anything to drink. I have 
taken my last glass of the nasty stuff! I have come 
to talk business and you will oblige me by giving close 
attention to what I am going to say. You have 
driven Walton from his. family and his home — per- 
haps to the devil. You know a secret relative to his 
early life which, if told, would injure the good name 
of his family. You also hold two deeds of trust on 
his house and land — ” 

“ What in the h — 1 is that to you, Dr. Preston ?” 
roared Piper, in a fierce, defiant tone. 

“ Keep very cool, Denis, for about one minute and 
I will show you. I have not come here^on a fool’s 
errand — I mean business. l am a friend to the Wal- 
tons, I mean to protect Mrs. Walton and her chil' 


io8 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


dren, both in property and reputation, from that 
greedy palm and slimy tongue of yours. If yoti 
open your mouth to a living soul to disclose the secret 
of the Walton-Duvall murder — if you refuse the money 
due on those notes, including interest from date, which 
I have come prepared to pay — I will have you in hand- 
cuffs before the sun goes down. You are wanted on 
the other side of the river, and I am the man to send 
you to your reward. You hear my conditions : I will 
give you five minutes to decide what you will do.” 

• Taking out his watch, and assuming a defiant atti- 
tude, Dr. Preston scowled fiercely upon the cower- 
ing wretch before him. He had fired at random, 
but it was plainly apparent that he had hit the mark. 
Piper was panic-stricken — frightened almost out of^ 
his wits. In a voice scarcely audible, he stammered 
and begged for mercy. Preston assured the guilty 
old wretch that he only required his silence, and the 
deeds of trust he held on the Walton property. 

Piper gladly consented. 

A notary was sent for and the business was soon 
arranged. Preston paid Piper nearly a thosand dol- 
lars — all that was due him — and left the tavern feel- 
ing happier than ever before in his life. As for 
Denis Piper, he was as wretched as guilt and fear and 
disappointment could make him. 

The Waltons were saved from disgrace and ruin. 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


109 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

HUNTING WORK. 

** I am no beggar; I only ask for wages, fairly, justly earned.” 

Wanted. — A competent man, of sober habits, to take charge of an 
engine at the Allegheny Rolling Mills. The right man can get 
constant employment and good wages by applying at once to the 
superintendent, Joel Mover. 

I T was early in the morning. Superintendent 
Moyer had just reached the office and unlocked 
his desk when he heard a gentle rap at the door. 
The words, “ Come in,” had hardly died on his lips 
when a handsome man of thirty-five or forty entered 
the room. Greeting the superintendent with a low 
bow and a genial smile, he quietly seated himself in 
the chair indicated by the motion of Moyer’s hand. 

Neither spoke for several seconds. The stranger 
was a peculiar-looking man. His beard had been 
closely shaved, leaving a dark ground which indicat- 
ed black whiskers. His hair was also black, slightly 
flecked with gray, and had been cropped as short as 
the barber could make it. He wore a Scotch cap, 
and a gVay blouse which fitted him very gracefully. 
It was fastened with shell buttons, each carved to 
represent a cross. A large white silk handkerchief 
was bound loosely about the neck, the corners ex- 
tending down under the blouse, but not concealing 
a white frilled shirt bosom, ornamented with gold 
studs, wrought in the shape of anchors. He was 
about five feet, eleven inches in height, and possessed 
a form that might well have answered for a model to 


110 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


the most ambitious artist, striving to reproduce ill 
marble or on canvass that paragon of manly form 
and beauty — the fabled Apollo of antiquity. 

While talking he looked straight into the face of 
the superintendent, and his bright, piercing eyes 
seemed to add charming emphasis to his words, ut- 
tered in a low, earnest, persuasive tone which capti- 
vated the sense of hearing and dispelled all doubts 
and fears as to the stranger’s integrity. His manner 
won the confidence of Moyer in a few minutes, and 
the superintendent was all anxiety to know who he 
was and what he wanted. Though surprised at first, 
his astonishment was still greater when the visitor 
pulled from his pocket a copy of the Daily Gazette^ 
and, pointing to the advertisement, said : 

‘‘ I am seeking employment. I saw this advertise- 
ment yesterday and have called to see if I can get the 
place.” 

I am glad to say that the place is not yet dispos- 
ed of. If we can arrange matters satisfactory, it will 
afford me much pleasure to engage you, but I dare 
say you will not find the work very pleasant.” 

‘‘ l am not hunting an easy place, Mr. Moyer, and 
shall be glad, very glad, to get the job. When shall 
I go to work ? ” 

“ What name did you give? I have really forgot- 
ten the name,” said Moyer, adroitly. 

“Chambers — Berry Chambers, late of Dundee, 
Scotland.” 

“ Well, Mr. Chambers, I think we shall not need 
you for several days yet. You see we had a fearful 
explosion at the mills the other day and have had to 
put in a new engine, boiler, furnace, etc., which is not 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE, 


111 


yet ready for service. You can come around to- 
morrow evening. I can let you know then just when 
we shall need 3’’ou. We will also arrange about your 
wages and other matters pertaining to the situation. 
There is one important question, however, which I 
am compelled to ask, though I regret the necessity 
of doing so. The explosion I spoke of was occa- 
sioned by the criminal negligence of the engineer, 
who was drunk at the time of the accident. Several 
lives were lost and the mills were damaged to the 
amount of ten thousand dollars. With this sad les- 
son before me, it becomes my painful duty to ask 
one simple question : Do you drink ? Do you tip- 

“ I will answer you honestly, as I hope to find 
favor in your sight : I used to drink, used to get 
drunk, but I am resolved never to be guilty of such 
baseness again while I live. I would not be here 
to-day, begging work, but for strong drink. I have 
a family in the old country.' I am anxions to make 
money to bring them over. With such a love in my 
heart; with such a duty resting upon my conscience, 
you need not fear to trust me — / will do my dutyP 

The eyes of the stranger filled with tears at the 
mention of his family. Moyer’s heart was touched. 
He saw in Chambers a kind-hearted, conscientious 
man — one whom he was not afraid to trust. They 
parted favorably impressed with each other ; but 
Moyer was still not a little puzzled to know why a 
man of so much intelligence and apparent culture 
should be seeking employment as an engineer in a 
rolling mill. 


XI2 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE, 


CHAPTER XIX. 


THE PARIS OF AMERICA. 


They say the city is full of cozenage ; nhnble jugglers, that de- 
ceive the eye ; dark-working sorcerers, disguised cheaters, prating 
mountebanks, and many such like liberties of sin.” 


INCINNATI!” 



It was nearly daylight, but still dark and 
dismal. 


There had been rain the night before, succeeded 
by a dense fog which mantled the earth in a shroud 
of impenetrable gloom. Even the lamps burned with 
a sickly glare. Men, with lanterns in their hands, 
jostled each other, so dense was the darkness, so 
narrow and crowded the thoroughfares. 

It was a new world to Sidney Walton. 

In imagination he had painted the great city in 
colors bright as the rainbow; its buildings were larger 
and grander than the halls of Alhambra. No sun- 
light was bright enough, no landscape so rich in out- 
line as to do justice to the bright picture imagination 
had painted upon the tablets of his youthful mind. 

What a contrast ! Daylight struggling with dark- 
ness over a dismal pile of brick and mortar ! The 
sun, battling with billowy clouds that still darkened 
the earth, shutting out the bright rays of daylight 
from a dreary, dismal world. 

Disappointed ? No, hardly that. It is not easy to 
disappoint a bright, brave, active boy so long as his 
mind is filled with new and startling revelations which 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


1^3 

follow in such rapid succession that reason is almost 
lost in a sense of vague wonder. This, to the average 
boy, is real happiness. 

For hours Sidney wandered about the streets, his 
carpet-bag strapped to his back and his hands in his 
breeches pockets, looking and feeling most awk- 
wardly. It was nearly noon before he entered a 
single door of the many he had passed and re-passed, 
gazing up at the signs over head. He had several 
chats with people, and idle boys frequently quizzed 
him ; some even strove to make sport of his awk- 
wardness, rightly divining from his manner that he 
was fresh from the country. Sidney bore their 
taunts with more than wonted patience, for they 
usually gave him the information desired, though 
in a style not at all agreeable T:o his feelings. One 
boy, in particular, a well-dressed, handsome lad 
about his own age, seemed to take more than a pass- 
ing interest in the young stranger^ whose candor and 
artless simplicity had awakened a desire to know 
more of his history. 

The mutual likes and dislikes of boys are as posi- 
tive, are as quickly manifested, as those of grown 
people ; and this was especially true of John Logan 
and Sidney Walton. In less than five minutes" they 
were excellent friends. 

Sidney had not yet spoken to a living soul relative 
to himself, but he felt that he could trust this new 
friend ; not that he had any evidence of the lad’s 
integrity, but for the best of all reasons, judging 
from a boy’s standpoint : because he liked him. 

Sidney admitted his poverty and enquired fora 
boarding house where he could get meals and lodg- 

7 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


1 14 

ing at the very lowest price. He did not see, or at 
least did not understand, the smile that passed over 
the handsome face of his new-found friend at the 
mere mention of cheap lodgings.’* 

Writing the name and number of **a very cheap 
boarding house ” on a card, Logan gave it to Sidney 
with a smile and a* wink which the recipient alone 
did not understand. 

Sidney soon found the boarding house, which was 
kept by a noisy old French woman. 

She was not dressed at all neatly. Her sleeves 
were rolled up to her shoulders, displaying a pair of 
arms that would have done credit to a prize fighter. 
There were signs of grease and dough between her 
fingers, and she dragged her feet as she walked, in a 
shuffling, slatternly way. 

Sidney supposed she was the chief cook of the es-" 
tablishment, and, to make sure of the name of the 
mistress, glanced at the card which Logan had 
given him before he ventured to say : 

“ I wish to see Mrs. Marie Montpeer.” 

“ Vel, here she pe — vat ye vant, eh ? ** 

‘‘ Is this boarding house ? ” 

“ Vat a question ! Mine house ? yes, it’s mine 
house ! Vat ye vants mit ze house, eh ? ” 

“ Have you got clean, nice beds to sleep in?” 

“ Saints in heaven ! vat a question ! • Do ye tinks 
I keep peds mit ze pugs ? mit ze — ze — vat you call 
ems? — Holy angels ! vat a question ! ” 

'' Excuse me, Mrs. Montpeer, I meant no harm by 
asking.” 

“ No harms ! no harms ! Vel, I means no harms, 
neither. Ze poys come here and sass me, sometimes. 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE, 


IIS 

very often, and say : * Good morning, Aunt Marie I * 
And I say, ‘ Good .morning to ye.’ Then ta say, 
‘ How’s ze ped pugs. Aunty ? ’ Oh it makes me so 
mad — so tevilish mad, mit hearing der sass ! I takes 
ze rolling pin, so, me poy,” pulling a large rolling pin 
from under her apron and catching Sidney by the 
hair of the head, “and peats all ze sass out uv ze 
• tevlish leetle monkeys.” Then she almost bursted 
her sides laughing. 

“ You shall see ze peds; come mit me.” 

The beds were mostly new, and appeared quite 
clean. 

The hostess explained that' she had other rooms 
and beds, not so good, for trashy people, but as Sid- 
ney appeared to be a nice boy, she would take great 
pleasure in treating him like a gentleman. He might 
come in as a day boarder, at first, and see how he 
liked things. She assured him that her house was 
first-class. 

It was certainly a cheap one, and, having but six 
dollars in his pocket, it stood him well in hand to 
board cheaply. He engaged board and lodging for 
the night. 


ii6 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE, 


CHAPTER XX. 

MRS. Duvall’s scheme. 

“ Ah me ! for aught that ever I could read, could ever hear, by tale 
or history, the course of true love never did run smooth ! ” 

I T was smooth sailing for Albert Early and his ex- 
cellent family, now that Col. Duvall was at rest 
** under the clods of the valley,” for the old 
planter had left him and his a large fortune, and un- 
der circumstances most creditable to all concerned. 
It was a lucky windfall indeed, and yet the actual in- 
heritance was not all for which they had cause to 
thank Col. Duvall. There was a prospective inher- 
itance greater than all this, which, under the ‘circum- 
stances, they might well call their own, — for why 
should not Allan Early marry the handsome heiress, 
Miss Eva Duvall? Such a match was much to be de- 
sired, for then the name and dignity of both families 
— equal in birth if not in fortune — might be happily 
blended and perpetuated. The young people seemed 
every way fitted for each other. Circumstances had 
thrown them into each other’s society a great deal 
since the death of Col. Duvall, and it really seemed 
that each was necessary to the other’s happiness. 
To help matters Mong, Mrs. Duvall was not only will- 
ing but delighted at the prospect of such a union. 
To this fortuitous circumstance must be added 
still another bond: Young Early’s sister, older than 
himself, was the constant companion and devoted 
friend and confidant of Miss Duvall. The Duvalls 
and Earlys lived almost as one family, being at all 
times on the most intimate terms of friendship. 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


I17 

Mrs. Duvall was a lady of fine culture, and, withallj, 
scheming in her nature. She was raised and edu- 
cated at the North, her father and grand-father hav- 
ing been, in their day, wealthy merchants of New 
Haven ; but she had lived in the South since her 
marriage with Col. Duvall and had heartily and most 
thoroughly imbibed the manners, customs and pre- 
judices of Southern aristocracy. 

She was in hearty sympathy with her husband 
during his life and true to his memory, now that he 
was dead. All his wishes, all his prejudices, were 
remembered most sacredly. She knew how very 
fond he was of the Early family, and she resolved in 
her own mind that this bond of friendship, which had 
lasted for several generations, should be strengthen- 
ed and perpetuated by the marriage of her daughter 
to the son of the bosom friend of Prentiss Duvall. It 
seemed quite plain to her mind that her husband had 
anticipated something of the kind in bringing the 
two families so closely together — in making Albert 
Early guardian and curator of Eva's property. It 
was a match every way to be desired, and Mrs. 
Duvall resolved that Eva should marry Allan Eajr!/^ 
and, having made up her mind relative to the match, 
she lost no time in communicating her wishes, plans 
and hops to the parents of young Early, both of 
whom were well pleased, but wisely abstained from 
any unseemly manifestations of delight. 

Allan Early having received, through his maternal 
uncle, then a member of congress, a cadet’s appoint- 
ment at the naval academy, it was thought best that 
he should accept the scholarship, more as an honor 
to him in future life than through any desire to reap 


THE BATTLE OP LIFE, 


Ii8. 

the emoluments of a position in the navy. With this 
object in view, it was determined before he entered 
the academy that he should resign and quit the ser- 
vice after receiving his first commission. 

The youth was exceedingly loath to leave his 
pleasant home and the congenial society of those he 
loved so well, but it was enough for him to know 
that his parents wished him to attend the naval 
school — it was their privilege to command, his duty 
to obey. 

Promising to write very often, the young lovers, if 
such they were, separated, not to meet again for 
several years. 

Judging from young Early’s standpoint, they were 
lovers; but from Miss Duvall’s — well, she hardly 
knew. She loved Allan Early very much indeed ; 
but for the life of her she could not tell whether it 
was because her mother liked him, or because he 
was a friend of the family, or for his own sake, inde- 
pendent of all other bonds of attachment. It was 
rather a vague idea of love on her part. She felt no 
disposition or desire to trifle with his feelings, for she 
was a kind-hearted, sensible girl, and not at all 
coquettish. She believed him her equal, and quite 
worthy of her, but she felt that they were too young 
to consider each other as lovers; too young to make 
any serious promises looking to a union of hearts 
and hands in the future. She felt that there was yet 
time enough for her to think over and analyze this 
doubtful passion; to teach her young heart whether 
it was.the result of friendship or a more sacred affec- 
tion, such as a true woman can feel for but one man 
in all the world. Her lover was yet a boy ; she was 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


119 

still a girl. He could wait — must wait. She prom- 
ised to -write to him, and that was -all. 

Young Early felt the most ardent affection for 
Eva, yet he had never found courage to tell her so. 
He felt that he ought not to go away without de- 
claring his passion, yet he took the most formal leave 
of her at parting — her manner seemed to chill every 
sentiment of love in his heart — but, mastering his 
embarrassment in a measure, he returned, fully re- 
solved to tell her all. How ardently he wished that 
she might fully know his heart’s great secret! but 
his courage once more failed him ; he was so very, 
very ‘bashful ; he did not know how to speak the word. 
He could only express the same words over again, 
and in precisely the same tone and manner as be- 
fore. He left the room confused and wretched. It 
would never do to go away thus — to part from her 
in such a cold, formal way — it would make him dis- 
satisfied and wretched through all the weary years of 
separation. He would return and speak his little 
piece if the words lodged in his throat and choked 
him. 

Eva, thinking him gone for good, quietly seated 
herself at*the window and resumed her needle-work, 
half crying, half laughing, at thought of parting from 
her youthful lover. While thus engaged. Early sud- 
denly entered the room for the third time, vexed at 
himself for having acted the awkward fool, and at 
Eva because he did not find her in tears. 

Miss Duvall sprang to meet him with childish glee, 
pretending to be greatly surprised at his retur'n. Her 
ringing laugh so confused Early that he forgot all 
the nice words he had conned over and committed 


120 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


to memory. He could think of nothing' in the world 
but good-bye, Eva ! ” and he had said that twice 
before. 

Eva was very much amused, but not at all embar- 
rassed. Checking her mirth, by a desperate effort, 
she said : 

“ Why, Allan, 1 thought you were gone, long 
ago!” " > - 

“ I did start, Eva — had almost reached the landing 
— but I forgot to tell you something — its of the very 
greatest importance — hence I have returned,” and 
he paused quite out of breath. 

“You told me good-bye?” said Eva, archly. 

“ No — yes — I believe I did — but that is not what 
I wish to say.” 

“ It was very clever in you, Allan, to come all the 
way back to tell me — ” giving him another look that 
sent the cold chills rushing through his veins — “ but 
don’t keep me waiting — I am almost dying to know.” 

“ I forgot to tell you — forgot to say — ” and he 
paused in hopeless bewilderment, surprised at his 
own folly, disgusted with his childish weakness. 

“ Well, I am all ^tention,” said the beautiful girl, 
in a voice as mild and gentle as the river bfeeze that 
toyed and played with the lace curtains of her win- 
dow. 

“ I forgot to say — to tell you how much I loved 
you.” 

“ Oh, of course you love me I I knew that long 
ago. Everybody loves me. I am almost smothered 
to death with love.” 

“ But, Eva my love is riot — I mean that my love 
is — is — ” 

“ Is what, Allan ?” 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. . 12 1 

Not the kind of love which everybody feels for 
everybody else.” 

“ Oh, I’m so glad ! Then mine is ever so much bet- 
ter!” and her suppressed mirth overcame the reso- 
lution to appear serious, and she laughed in spite of 
herself. 

“ Eva, dear, I am not jesting 1 I am going to leave 
the plantation 1 We may never see each other again 1” 
. “ Oh, Allan, don’t say that 1 It makes me feel sad 
to hear you talk so.” 

** I wish I could make you feel real sad ; I wish I 
could bring tears to your eyes, as you have to mine I” 

“You are not angry?” 

“No.” 

“ Then don’t let my silly jokes and frivolous mirth 
vex you. OiTe may be sad without shedding tears. 
I am really very, very sorry that you are going 
away I Emma and I will miss you very much in- 
deed I” 

“ Do you love me, Eva ?” 

“ Yes.’" 

“ Will you promise not to love any one else 
while I am gone ?” 

“Why should I make such a silly promise?” 

“ Because it will make me happy — very, very 
happy. I will promise you as much ; I will solemnly 
vow to love you and no one else, until we meet 
again 1 If you desired it, I would cheerfully write 
the vow with my own blood 1” 

“We are too young to talk of love, Allan. I have 
tried very hard not to give you pain, but you urge 
me to make a promise which your own better 
judgment ought to teach you is better understood 


122 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


than spoken. That I love you, and will continue to 
love you, is as true, perhaps, as anything not assured 
can ever be ; but of one thing I would have you beware : 
If you begin to be jealous almost before we are lov- 
ers, your jealousy may wreck all your hopes — and 
mine. We are young yet, and have much to learn, 
but I have already learned that I can never love a 
man who shozvs the least disposition to be jealous I' 

Young Early was vexed and disappointed. He 
had learned, thus young in life, that 

“The course of true love never does run smooth.” 

But he would not despair. He would make him- 
self still more worthy of her. He had no rival, s,ave 
his own jealousy, and would probably have none for 
years to come, if ever; why shoujd he be discour- 
aged? He had told her of his love, ^nd she had 
frankly confessed that she loved him. He could 
build his hopes, mountain high, upon what she had 
confessed to him in this last interview. 


CHAPTER XXL 

THE detective’s STORY. 

“ Died like a miser, grasping a purse of gold.” 

^^ETECTIVE LONGLEY had just arrived in New 
JL/ Orleans. He bought a copy of the Picayune 
soon after stepping ashore and strolled into a 
coffee house to take a quiet smoke and refresh himself 
after a disagreeable night’s voyage from Mobile. He 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


123 


quietly glanced over the columns of the paper as he 
sipped his coffee and smoked his fragrant Havana, but 
found nothing of particular interest until his eyes fell 
upon the hotel arrivals registered at the St. Charles. 
Near the bottom of the list he discovered the name 
of Albert Early, of Duvall Glen, Louisiana. 

Here was an opportunity of meeting face to face 
the custodian of the large reward left in trust by 
Col. Duvall to be paid for the arrest and conviction 
of the murderer of his son. Longley resolved to call 
on Mr. Early at once. He was anxious to explain 
to him that he had recently discovered the name of 
the real murderer and hoped to capture the guilty 
man in the near future. 

Longley found Early at his room, and the two men 
were well acquainted in a few minutes. The conver- 
sation naturally reverted to the subject most inter- 
esting to both — the murder of young Duvall. 

“It is the most difficult case I have ever had on 
my books,” said Longley, “except one; and as the 
hunt is now off — we have long since abandoned all 
hope of catching the murderer — I do not mind tell- 
ing you all about it. The case in point is the famous 
Embree murder, in Hickman County, Kentucky. 
David Embree, the promising young son of ’Squire 
Embree, a wealthy planter of that county, was killed 
in the night by an individual who had, with the as- 
sistance of an accomplice, abducted the child of Mrs. 
Parker, who was the daughter of ’Squire Embree. 
She had previously abandoned her husband and re- 
turned to her father’s fiouse, bringing the child with 
her. This murder happened when I was a mere 
boy. The case w§s turned over to me several years 


124 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE, 


after I entered the detective service. There was a 
large reward offered for the apprehension of the 
murderer and his accomplice, and the detectives did 
their best* but with very p(^or success. I have, among 
my papers, the written statement of the first detec- 
tive employed by the Embrees to work up the cas.e. 
It is an interesting document; at least to a man of 
my profession. With your permission, Mr. Early, I 
will read it.” 

Early cheerfully acquiesced, and Longley pro- 
ceeded to read as follows : 

MURDER OF DAVID EMBREE. 

I was telegraphed for early the next morning after the murder, and 
arrived on the day of the funeral. There was intense excitement in 
the neighborhood. Gabriel Parker was openly accused of the crime ; 
but I had not been in the neighborhood two hours until I was satisfied 
that Parker, though doubtless the instigator of the whole business, was 
innocent of the murder. There were two rough, shop-made keys left 
in the locks of the two doors which led to the sleeping apartment of 
Mrs. Parker. These keys opened the whole mystery. The gunsmith 
at Clinton testified that he had seen Wingate at work on those very 
keys ; had quizzed him about them ; asked who they were for, and 
other questions, which Wingate answered in the most frank and art- 
less manner. He told the proprietor that he was making them for an 
old farmer in the country who had lost one of his keys and had al- 
lowed the other to get so rusty that it would not bolt the door. The 
gunsmith asked him why the farmer had not left his locks at the shop 
to have the keys fitted, but was told that it was not at all necessary, as 
he (Wingate) had given the farmer instructions how to take impres- 
sions in wax ; that he was then working from models thus taken, and, 
to explain the process, had shown his employer the wax impressions. 
The gunsmith admitted that he had grave doubts as to the truth of 
Wingate’s story, but said nothing about it at the time. “ Late the 
same evening,” continued the gunsmith, “ a strange man, representing 
himself to be the hired hand of ’Squire Embree, callecl for the keys, 
while Wingate was absent from the shop, and paid for them.” This 
led to a further investigation, which proved that Foley was the man 
who called for the keys. It was now as clear as daylight that Foley 
and Wingate were the guilty parties, but which of the two had com- 


, THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


12 $ 


mitted the murder? We were not long in doubt on this point. Foley 
and Wingate were as little alike as men could well be. The next 
morning Wingate was seen on the road east of Clinton with a young 
child in his arms. Foley had been seen about the same time in an op- 
posite direction from town. The two men had gone different ways on 
the same turnpike. The man on horseback had evidently killed young 
Embree, for there was the mark of a horseshoe on the dead man’s 
body. With such good beginning, we hoped to catch the murderer 
and his accomplice in a few weeks, but all our efforts failed. Neither 
Foley nor Wingate have yet been discovered, and probably never will 
be. 


“ This is the statement of John Wentwoijth, one 
of the ablest detectives of his day. He is off his 
beat now and has done nothing in our line for 
several years. When the matter was turned over to 
me it was for a different purpose. My duty was not 
to catch, or attempt to catch, the murderers of Da- 
vid Embree, but to find Parker and the lost heir to 
his large estate. The Embrees discovered, after 
Parker had gotten away, that the child of Mrs. Par- 
ker was the legal heir to all his property. Parker 
knew it all theJ:ime, and anticipated their movements 
by stealing' the child. After a long hunt, I suc- 
ceeded in finding old Parker on one of the finest 
plantations in Mississippi. He was old and bed- 
ridden, but as full of the devil as ever. 

“ Mrs. Parker went at once to see her husband, and 
fell upon her knees at his bed-side and prayed and 
implored him'to tell her what had become of her 
son. He finally consented to do so provided she 
.would sign certain papers, relinquishing all claim to 
his property. The papers were accordingly drawn 
up and signejd by this foolish woman, without a mo- 
ment’s reflection, and without consulting any one, so 
eager was she to find her long lost qhild. To hqr 


126 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


surprise and horror, Parker had no sooner gotten his 
hands on the papers than he dismissed her with a 
volley of oaths, saying : 

‘ I know nothing of ’Squire Embree’s darling 
grand-son, but hope he is dead and in h — 1 !’ 

“ Old Parker died a few years ago, without making 
a will, leaving his vast estate to Felix, his illegitimate 
son. Thus ends my part of the story of this most 
remarkable incident in the annals of crime. We in- 
tend to find young Parker, if alive, and put him in 
possession of this large estate, for which we expect 
to be well paid.” 


CHAPTER XXII. 

A KILKENNY FIGHT. 

‘^Talk of vines and wines and drunken Bacchus ; 

But a drop too much will raise a fracas.” 

M rs. MONTPEER’S boarding house was fre- 
quented by railroad and steamboat roughs, 
fruit peddlery and vagrant musicians, and 
now and then by an honest stranger whose slender 
means prevented him from being very choice as to 
food and lodging. 

John Logan, the lawyer’s clerk, knew this very 
well when he sent young Walton to board at her 
house ; knew that his victim would probably not get 
through the first night without wishing himself at 
home — even in the hay-loft or fodder-stack — any^ 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE, 


127 


where save under the roof of this buxom dame, whose 
sceptre was the rolling-pin, and whose weapons were 
shovel and tongs, with a reserve of boiling water, 
which seldom failed to sweep the field when the 
sturdy amazon charged down on the combatants, 
scalding to the right and left of her. 

Young Logan laughed heartily over the clever 
practical joke of sending the young, confiding coun- 
try lad to Montpeer’s. It was an old joke, one he 
had often played before, but somehow the mischief- 
loving youth found little pleasure in contemplating 
this last act of mischief when in the calm and quiet 
of his own comfortable home. What had at first ap- 
peared to him in the light of a harmless joke, now 
presented itself in different and less pleasing colors. 
The earnest, honest, confiding disposition of his vic- 
tim rose up in judgment against his sensitive con- 
science, condemning him severely for this mean, un- 
merited deception. The boy would probably be 
robbed the first night and turned into the streets 
without the means of procuring food and lodging for 
another day, all on account of this wicked propensity 
of his — to make sport at the expense of others. He 
was quite sure he liked the strange boy, and was 
equally certain that he had no desire in the world to 
injure any one — at least there was no malice in his 
fun, whatever might come of it in the end. It was 
only the wish to appear smart in the eyes of others, 
and to contribute to the general amusement of his 
companions and associates in mischief; yet such 
reasoning as this, though strictly true, did not excuse 
his act, and he went to sleep with the mental reso-^ 
lution of seeking an interview with Walton early the 


128 


THE BA TTLE OF LIFE. 


next day, for the honest, manly purpose of asking 
his pardon. He would do even more: he would as- 
sist the boy in finding a safer and more respectable 
place to live. 

When Mrs. Montpeer’s boarders came flocking in, 
Sidney looked in vain for some one to talk to, as 
friend to friend, for the faces of all were repulsive. 
He felt ill at ease in such rough company. They 
gazed at him in vulgar surprise, talked of him to his 
face, jested, laughed and swore in the most indecent 
manner. Without asking his name, they addressed 
him as “the kid,” a term which Sidney had never 
heard applied to a human being before. Their ques- 
tions were numerous and intended more to confuse 
than to elicit reasonable information. Sidney heard* 
more profanity in an hour than he had heard before 
in all his life. Being heartily disgusted, he went to 
his room as soon as the clerk, a drunken bully, found 
time and inclination to lead the way. He was glad 
to make his escape from the mob, and but for the 
fact that he had not eaten a morsel of food during 
the day, he would certainly not have dared to face 
the vulgar rabble at the supper table. 

Mrs. Montpeer sat at the head of the table, her 
large, red face all aglow with enthusias'm. She was 
commander-in-chief and knew it. 

The boarders were noisy, but good-humored. 

At last they fell to talking about “ the lost boy,” 
“the kid,” “ the young duffer,” using many such ex- 
pressions that were almost unintelligible to the boy 
who writhed in hopeless confusion under their vulgar 
attentions. At last a big Irishman at his side re- 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE, 


129 


solved that he would rescue the boy from his torment- 
ors, and in a way peculiarly Irish, as the sequel will 
show. Laying down his knife and fork, he said : 

“ Let the bye be, ye onra divils ! I’ll thrash the 
first mon that imposes on the bye ; do ye moind that, 
now? ” 

“ My good sir ! ” said Sidney, “ I hope you will 
not mind anything they say about me— I am sure I 
do not care — besides the gentlemen mean no harm!” 

“Vatyou vant, Mike? Vat for you meddle mit 
ze boy?” said Aunt Marie, shaking her fist in the 
Irishman’s face. ‘‘He eats mitout talking. You 
eat ze vituals and don’t speak unless spoken to. Ze 
poy don’t care ; vat for you care ? eh ? ” 

The Irishman repeated his threat, whereupon an- 
other son of Erin wanted to know if he was included 
in the list of those who were supposed to be “ im- 
possin’ on the bye.” 

He was answered in the affirmative and a lively 
row ensued. Mrs. Montpeer strove in vain to make 
herself heard. Threats, oaths of defiance and blows 
followed in such rapid succession that the dining 
room became the scene of fierce conflict ere Mrs. 
Montpeer could marshal .her forces. The room was 
strewn with broken dishes and furniture, presenting 
a scene of chaos like unto nothing earthly outside 
of Donnybrook on the last night of the fair, or the pas- 
senger train after the Ashtabula disaster. The police 
bore down on the combatants and carried off several 
of Madame’s most belligerent boarders. 

Sidney was notified to report at the police court 
next day and give an account of the disturbance. 
He was alarmed at this and protested that he had 
8 


TH^ BATTLE OF LIFE, 


130 

taken no part in the fray whatever. The policeman 
assured him that he need have no fears ; they knew 
their men; they only wanted his testimony, because 
he was sober and had the appearance of being a 
decent fellow, and could probably tell the court all 
about the fight. 

Late at night, Sidney was rudely awakened by a 
drunken Dutchman, who declared, with a surly oath, 
that he (Sidney) was “in te wrong ped.” 

“ I guess not, sir,” answered the boy, meekly. 

“Veil, me see 'bout dot.” 

“ The clerk showed me this room and said it was 
mine for the night.” 

“ Te clerks ! Dot is tarn fine ! Ha ! ha ! ha ! 
Te clerks sho’ you te room ? I been here dese five 
year and never see te clerks, never hear tell of te 
clerks, never read of him nor dream of him ! Come, 
my young rooster, get out of te ped. I don’t vant 
to hurt you, but you must get out of te ped, or py 
got I trow you out te window for the coroner to sit 
on an’ make te verdict : ' Died suddenly from sleepin’ 
in te wrong ped.’ ” 

Sidney had quietly yielded, so far, to everything 
and to everybody, but he resolved that he would not 
give up the room without a struggle. He had paid 
for it and had possession, he would not leave on 
compulsion. He quietly rose from his bed, as though 
he meant to yield to the arbitrary demands of the 
intruder. 

The German chuckled over his prospective victory. 

Sidney felt in the corner for his carpet sack, in the 
bottom of which was an old pistol, loaded and ready 
for use. He sprang the lock without the Dutchman 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


131 

hearing or noticing his movements, for there was no 
light in the room. Putting the pistol behind him, he 
said : 

** Will you please light the gas ? I can’t find my 
clothes.” 

The Dutchman, without saying a word, struck a 
match and lighted the gas. In an instant the room 
was light as day. 

“You want my bed?” said the boy, looking the 
Dutchman full in the face, but still holding his pistol 
out of sight. 

“If te court knows herself, dat’s de verdict. Te 
door opens on te inside.” 

“ The door opefis on the inside ! Go H And the 
boy leveled his rusty pistol at the Dutchman’s head, 
and repeated in a firm, defiant tone of voice : “ One ^ — 
two , — ” 

“Sthop! hold! don’t shoot! Dot counts me out. 
I’ll go. Tree fire ! — I know te rules. Let me 

put on my boots. I’ll go. You’s te game shicken ; 
one of te blue hen’s young roosters. Goot-bye, and 
may te tevil take you!” and the old Dutchman 
shuffled out through the door and down the stairway, 
muttering as he went: “May te tevil take you! 
may te tevil eat you for breakfast.” 

Sidney locked the door of his rooni, which he had 
neglected to do at first, and retired to dream of po- 
licemen and drunken rowdies. 


Lawyer Cheatem, for whom John Logan worked, 
was a big gun in the police courts. He was Mike 
Maloney’s lawyer in his present trouble, as he had 
often been before. What the saloon men failed to 


132 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


get of Mike’s hard earnings, Mrs. Montpeer, the re- 
corder and lawyer Cheatem gobbled, and so natural- 
ly, too, that Mike had come to regard it all as just 
and right; as being in strict accordance with the 
eternal fitness of things. 

When Mike’s case was called, lawyer Cheatem ap- 
peared as counsel, delivering one of his old pathetic 
speeches revamped for the occasion. Every expres- 
sion, every movement of Cheatem, was peculiar to 
him alone. He stalked into the court room, drum- 
ming on the floor at each step of his triumphant pro- 
gress with a massive gold-headed cane, his gaudy 
eye-glasses mounted and adjusted in the most ec- 
centric and foppish manner. His advent, as usual, 
was heralded by a suppressed titter which he scorn- 
ed to notice, or else attributed it to other causes as 
foreign to himself as the knowledge^ of his own ridic- 
ulous vanity. He took his seat inside the bar and 
very near the prisoner, who had gone through the 
boarding house melee without a scratch or bruise. 

There was but one witness examined. 

Sidney Walton was called and sworn. 

He testified, that, to the best of his knowledge, he 
was the innocent cause of all the trouble. Mike Ma- 
loney had resented the jokes of the boarders, though 
advised against such rashness, notwithstanding the 
jests were of a personal nature and most rude and 
insulting. The landlady had also warned Mike to 
keep cool, but one word brought on another, until 
quite a number of the boarder^ became involved in 
a hand-to-hand fight, in which the landlady received 
a black eye — was not sure who struck Mrs. Mont- 
peer— was sure of but one thing: that Mike Maloney 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


133 


was victorious; that, after clearing the dining-room 
of all his enemies, he mounted the table and kicked 
the dishes to the^ floor, closing the engagement by 
emptying a dish of gravy on Mrs. Montpeer, who 
had fallen early in the fight. 

When lawyer Cheatem rose to speak, the court- 
room was filled with people. The reporters of the 
press were there to take down his speech, for those 
who had not the satisfaction of hearing Cheatem and 
laughing at his grotesque oratory, usually read of him 
in the daily papers. 

The lawyer’s remarks were a panegyric upon the 
merits and virtues of the witness, Sidney Walton, at 
whom he pointed his long, skinny finger, and at whom 
the crowd gazed and giggled. The boy blushed with 
shame and indignation at every mention of his name 
in connection with this disgraceful broil. While 
thus writhing under the doubtful praise of lawyer 
Cheatem, and feeling too much abashed to raise his 
head, some one quietly took a seat by his side. He 
did not look up, but still sat gazing down at the floor, 
wishing in his heart that old Cheatem would change 
the subject and give him a chance to escape from the 
room without everybody saying : “ There goes the 
young hero.” As he did not look around, the indi- 
vidual, who had taken a seat by his side, laid his 
hand gently on his shoulder and said: 

“ Walton, my good fellow, I hope you are not mad 
at me for sending you to Montpeer’s. I really did 
not desire to get you into such an ugly scrape as 
this ! I am very sorry that old Cheatem did not let 
you alone after making you tell' all you knew of this 
ugly business ; but he means no harm. You will be 


134 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE, 


in all the papers to-morrow. It will be a good ad- 
vertisement for you ; it will bring you to the notice 
of thousands who might not, otherwise, have known 
of your existence. It is a capital advertisement. 
You see, you came out of it honorably. Your testi- 
mony has been straight-forward, sensible and hon- 
estly told, and has made a good impression — has 
made you friends. 

Sidney assured young Logan that he was not of- 
fended at him or any one else, but only ashamed and 
humiliated at being mixed up in such disgraceful 
broils. 

The two boys had left the court-room together 
when a policeman followed them from the steps of 
the court-house and. at last laid his hand on Sidney’s 
shoulder, saying : 

Is your name Walton ?” 

“ Yes sir.” 

“ Sidney Walton ?” ^ 

“That’s my name.” 

“ Lately a boarder at Mrs. Montpeer’s ?’' 

“Unfortunately I spent one night under her roof.” 

“Very well, then, you are my prisoner.” 

“ What for?” asked both boys in the sarr>e breath. 

“That you will learn in due time and from the 
proper-authorities. I have a warrant for your arrest, 
and that is all I know about it. My orders are to 
place you in tlie lock-up. I am very sorry to do so, 
for you don’t look like you had ever been guilty of 
a crime deserving such punishment, but I have' no' 
choice in the matter ; so you will please come with 
me,” and he lead the astonished boy to jail. 


■ 135 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


CHAPTER XXIII. 

A FRIEND IN NEED. 


“I thank thee, Verner! He is a friend indeed who runs out into 
the storm to shake a hand with us.” 

/ I \ HE news-boy on the train threw off a paper for 
JL Dr. Preston, morning and evening, in passing 
the village of Mt. Astar. 

The doctor cared little for the local news of either 
Cincinnati or Pittsburg, but he had hardly opened the 
paper this morning when the headlines of an article 
met his gaze and elicited his earnest attention. • The 
caption of the article in'question was in large type 
and read as follows : 


BLOOD WILL TELL.' 

The boys have been having some fun at the expense of a high-spirit- 
ed lad from the interior of the State, who is on his first visit to the city. 
What was intended as a joke came very near ending in a tragedy, for 
the boy had brought his shooting irons along with him, and was dis- 
posed to use them if old Hans Bremer is to be believed. The boys, 
for the sake of a little fun, sent the lad to Mrs. Montpeer’s boarding 
house. There was a row among the boarders that night, in which our 
young hero took a lively part, driving old Bremer into the street at the 
muzzle of his pistol. The old German swore out a warrant next day 
for the young blood’s arrest, and had him sent to the lock-up. A re- 
porter, in making the rounds of the prison yesterday, found the boy 
and had a long talk with. him. He is quite young, and his innocent, 
boyish face would indicate anything else but the rowdy he is accused 
of being in the sworn statement of old Bremer; but there is evidently 
a lurking devil in this youthful adventurer that only needs to be aroused 
and he is ready for the most desperate emergency. He appeared very 
much dejected at first, and spoke of the disgrace of being in jail with 
tears, but when told that he had been arrested on a warrant issued up- 
on the swQrn statement of old Hans Bremer, he fired up and said, “ I 
know all about it, now, and only regret that I did not kill the old 




THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


136 

scoundrel ! ” He declared, with much earnestness, that Bremer was 
“ a cowardly old sneak.” He protests that he took no part in the fight ; 
that his trouble with the German happened at a later hour of the night ; 
that the plaintiff came to his roDin and tried to oust him from his bed; 
that he drew his pistol on the “old beast” and*drove him from the 
room, but not until he had threatened violence and blustered in the 
most insulting manner; that he had no notion of shooting the “old 
rascal,” but if it was to do over again he would kill him as he would “ a 
dog.” The boy is a nephew of Col. Kit Hensley, of Kentucky, the no- 
torious politician and duelist, who, though a polished gentleman so- 
cially, is a terror to his enemies. Sidney Walton, for that is the boy’s 
name, doubtless came of his fighting qualities honestly. The boy’s 
father, Capt. Walton, was formerly a river man of considerable notori- 
ety, and the boy loves to speak of him in that capacity. 

We would advise our young friend to go to Kentucky, where fortune 
and fame await him. He has only to send his uncle a marked copy of 
this paper and his future success in life is assured. He has no money, 
but thinks he will come out all right. He says he had a motive in 
coming to the city, and proposes to show-the world that he knows a 
thing or two. He is very reticent about his plans and is extremely 
anxious that his people at home shall know nothing about his trouble. 


When lawyer Cheatem returned to his office, he 
found John Logan in a deal of trouble. The boy 
frankly confessed that he had indirectly been the 
cause of the arrest and imprisonment of a strange 
boy from the country, for which he felt the deepest 
regret. 

“ What has the boy been doing? ” asked the law- 
yer, with lazy indifference. 

“Nothing, absolutely nothing.” 

“ What’s that to me, John ? Why do you mention 
it to me ? ” 

“ I want you to assist me in getting the boy out of 
jail and clear of any damaging charges that may be 
brought against him.” 

“ Has he the means of paying me for my services ?” 
-* “ He has very little money.” ^ 

“ How much, think you ? ” 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


137 


I doubt if he has as much as five dollars, all told.’^ 

‘‘ Any rich friends ? ” 

‘‘None that he would likely appeal to in his pres- 
ent trouble.” 

“ Then what in the d — 1 do you expect me to do ? 
I am not running a charity mill. None of those 
rowdies pass through my hopper unless Cheatem gets 
his toll. Lawyers should have no sympathy, outside 
the court room, and that of the maudlin sort, that 
attracts the attention of the multitude and brings 
tears to the eyes of men whose heads are as soft as 
their hearts. But coming back to business : what 
sort of a scrape has this fellow, for whom you ex- 
press so much sympathy, gotten into ? ” 

Young Logan stated the particulars. 

“ Don’t you think he could raise as much as ten 
dollars ? ” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Then say to him that I will get him out of this 
trouble for ten dollars.” 

“ Thank you, Mr. Cheatem ! ” 

“ But, understand me, John, I must be paid in ad- 
vance.” 

“ Certainly, Mr. Cheatem, and here is a ten dollar 
note.” 

“ Is not this your money, Logan ? ” 

“ Yes, sir, but I pay it as freely as the prisoner 
would had he the means of paying; but young Wal- 
ton must not know that I gave you money to pro- 
cure his release.” 

“ My dear boy,” said Cheatem, beaming with de- 
light, ‘‘you are too generous, too kind-hearted for 
your own good, but as the money is yours, fairly and 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE, 


138 

honestly earned, you certainly have the right to do 
as you please with it. Tell your friend he will be at 
liberty to-morrow.” 

Taking his hat and cane, the lawyer stalked out 
of his office and down the street in the direction of 
Mrs. Montpeer’s boarding house. Stopping at the 
door, he inquired for Hans Bremer. He was told 
where to find him. Calling directly at the shop in 
which the German worked, he took him aside, and 
the two had a long talk, the result of which was a 
compromise. Cheatem'paid the Dutchman five dol- 
lars not to appear against his client, pocketed the 
other five, and the whole matter was settled in less 
than an hour. 

When the Walton -Bremer assault and battery was 
called up in the police court next day, and no wit- 
nesses appearing against the defendant, Cheatem 
rose and said that young Walton has been arrested 
through malice, to gratify the spite of old Bremer; 
that the prisoner was innocent of the crime for \Yhich 
he stood accused, and moved that his case be dis- 
missed. The judge, after admonishing Sidney in a 
kind, fatherly way to avoid bad company in the 
future, dismissed the case. 


Dr. Preston’s first impulse was to telegraph to 
Cincinnati for particulars, but after a moment’s re- 
flection he changed his mind. It would only give 
publicity to a matter he felt anxious to have hushed, 
or as little talked of as possible. He felt confident 
that the boy was not guilty of a vicious crime. He 
would go to the city at once, ,get Sidney out of 
prison and bring him home. 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


139 


Landing in Cincinnati, he went directly to the 
police headquarters, where he learned that Sidney 
had been released the day before. He could learn 
nothing more save that Cheatem had acted as his 
attorney. He found the lawyer at his office, but he 
could tell him nothing of the boy. As he was leav- 
ing, however, the lawyer called to him and said : 

“My office boy, John Logan, can probably tell 
you where to find the lad for whom you are looking. 
They are probably together at this very moment. 
They are quite fond of each other; as much so as 
twin puppies.” 

Securing the number of John Logan’s room. Dr. 
Preston soon found it as well as the object of his 
solicitude. Sfdney was delighted, though not a little 
embarrassed at meeting his old friend in Cincinnati. 

Taking the boy to his room at the hotel. Dr. Pres- 
ton told him of all his plans for his sake and earn- 
estly implored his return to Mt. Astar. 

Sidney respectfully, though earnestly, refused. 
He thank Dr. Preston for his kindness; for the deep 
interest he had ever manifested in his welfare, assur- 
ing him with unmistakable candor that had he known 
as much he would certainly not have left home, but 
having made the start he was determined not to re- 
turn. Were he to go back, after what had happened, 
he would be more than ever the laughing-stock of all 
the boys of the neighborhood. He hated Mt. Astar 
and its people and could never live there again. 
Death was preferable to facing the laughs and jeers 
of the ignorant rabble who had contributed all in 
their power to make his life a burden. 

The doctor did not despair of gaining his point. 


140 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


There was still another inducement that would prob- 
ably win. He told the boy that his father had left 
the village and had not been heard of ; that he (Sid- 
ney) was needed at home, and ought to return and 
take care of his mother and those who were yet in a 
measure dependent upon him for support. 

Sidney replied that he had left home for that very 
purpose, because he felt that he could do more for 
himself and them anywhere else in the world than at 
home ; that he did not want to work himself to death 
for the benefit of old Piper. 

Preston, as a last resort, told Sidney that he had 
secured the deeds of trust and their home was now 
safe. 

At this the boy grasped the doctor’s hand and 
burst into tears. He declared that he would do any- 
thing to oblige such a friend; anything but return to 
the hated, detested village upon which he had turned 
his back forever. 

When' the doctor found he could not shake the 
boy’s resolution, he gave him fifty dollars in money, 
and his blessing, saying, as he held his hand at part- 
ing : 

“ Don t drink y my boy, dorit drink! ” 

These words lingered in Sidney’s ears for hours. 
That night, before he retired, he fell upon his knees 
and vowed to God that he would never touch a drop 
of intoxicating liquor as long as he lived. It was 
the only return he could now make to the truest, 
noblest friend that ever a struggling youth had the 
good fortune to meet in that rugged path which leads 
from obscurity and poverty to a high and noble plane 
of existence — the desire of many ; the fruition of but 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE, 


14I 

lew. It was the only tribute he could pay to this 
man who had so often proved a shield to him in 
danger and a comfort to him in distress ; but the vow 
was honestly made. How faithfully it was kept will 
appear further on. 


CHAPTER XXIV. 

YOUTHFUL DREAMS. 


Our early days ! — how often back 
We turn on life’s bewildering track, 
To where, o’er hill and valley, plays 
The sunlight of our early days 1 ” 


QIDNEY read the article : ‘‘Blood Will Tell,’^ 
over and over. Though false in the main, he 
felt rather proud of being made an object of 
public interest.^ He would not have Jiked for his 
mother to read it, however, and for the best reasons 
in the world ; but for others he cared not a straw. 
He lay awake many hours, the night after parting 
with his generous friend and patron, and at last fell 
asleep repeating to himself with earnest, boyish fer- 
vor : “ God bless you, Dr. Preston ! God bless you, 
for your kindness to me and those I love ! ” It oc- 
curred to him in his midnight reverie, that he ought 
to go to lawyer Cheatem and thank him, too, for his 
kind service — pay him, perhaps, if he demanded a 
fee — at all events he should thank the gentleman for 
his kindness. After breakfast he strolled down the 


142 


THE BATTLE OF LIEE. 


street to Cheatem’s office. He found the lawyer 
alone at^his desk. 

“ Why, bless my soul ! ” said Cheatem, rising from 
his seat and advancing to meet him, ^‘this is Master 
Sidney Walton, is it not?” and grasping the boy by 
both hands he bowed him into a seat. 

“ That’s my name, sir,” answered Sidney, over- 
whelmed with the warmth of Cheatem’s manner. 

‘‘ What can I do for you this morning ? ” continued 
the lawyer, adjusting his eye-glasses and peering in- 
to the boy’s face. 

I have come to pay you, sir, fbr your services ?n 
my behalf in the recorder’s court the other day. 
You will oblige me by naming the amount.” 

“Now, really,* my dear boy, I never thought of 
such a thing ! never dreamed of charging you a cent I 
You see, my son, I happened to find out through 
Johnnie Logan, who is a very sincere friend of yours, 
that you were in trouble. Says I: ‘Johnnie, my 
son, tell me all about it.’ He then gave me a histo- 
ry ofyour trouble. Says I : ‘ Johnnie, my dear boy, 
give yourself no concern, whatever ; I will procure 
your friend’#release as soon as his case is called up.’ 

‘ But,’ says Logan, ‘ the boy has no money, Mr. 
Cheatem.’ ‘That makes no difference, Johnnie,’ 
says I, ‘ no difference in the world.’ So I went to 
work at once to get you out of the scrape; just as 
earnestly, too, as if you had paid me my usual fee — 
which is ten .dollars — only ten dollars — but that’s 
neither here nor there — I knew you had no money — 
but my heart went out in earnest pity towards you, 
my dear boy! So young, so far from home, so in-, 
nocent, and yet friendless I When I saw you in the 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE, 


143 


court room, I said to myself : * There’s a noble boy — 
excellent family — cultivated, refined ! What a shame 
that he should be sent^o the work-house and penned 
up with hardened scoundrels, and all to gratify the 
malice of that old beer cask, Hans Bremer! It’s a 
shame 1 I’ll save the boy, fee or no fee.’ ” 

“ I am very thankful to you, Mr. Cheatem, and 
wish to pay you, besides. It is true I had no money 
: at the time, but I have received some since, and I am 
delighted to pay you — I believe you said your fee 
was ten dollars?” 

Only ten dollars!” and Cheatem smiled from 
ear to ear. 

‘‘ Here is a ten dollar bill, Mr. Cheatem. I pay it 
very cheerfully, indeed, and with thanks, grateful 
thanks ! ” 

Cheatem 'bowed young Walton out of the office 
and down into the street. • 

As Sidney reached the sidewalk the lawyer called 
to him : 

“ One word, my boy : Don’t mention this little 
transaction to Johnnie Logan. I promised him that 
I would clear you without fee or reward, and did 
so ; but you now come up like a noble, generous lit- 
tle fellow, and say : ‘ Here, Mr. Cheatem, is ten dol- 
lars for your services.’ What am I to do under the 
circumstances? You would dhink me harsh, per- 
haps offended, if I refused to take the money; so I 
do the best I can under such embarrassing circum- 
stances — I take the money — but I do not wish my 
clerk to think me avaricious. He believes that I 
cleared you through kindness towards him, and com- 
passion for you — and so I did — hence he must not 


144 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE, 


know that I afterwards accepted a fee. Do you see 
the point, my son ? ” 

Sidney assured him that he 4* saw the point,** and 
appreciated his wish to keep the transaction a pro- 
found secret. He would never mention the matter. 

Sidney, in the simple goodness of his heart, be- 
lieved lawyer Cheatem to be one of the kindest men 
in the world. 

In ten minutes Cheatem had forgotten that there 
was such a boy in existence as Sidney Walton. 


The friendship of young Logan and Walton, com- 
mencing under such unfavorable circumstances, bids 
fair to be as lasting as it is sincere. Walton’s sim- 
plicity of manner wa^ both interesting and amusing 
to Lqgan, who sincerely admired his artless, confid- 
ing nature, and would have died, now that he had 
learned to like the boy so much, rather than abuse 
his confidence or turn into ridicule his queer actions 
and equally queer expressions. His leisure hours 
were mostly spent in Sidney’s company, and to- 
gether they visited all that was worth seeing in the 
city. Logan frequently came to Sidney’s room of 
nights, and the boys would spend the evening very 
pleasantly, talking over their plans and hopes, their 
disappointments and troubles, dilating in the most 
earnest and impassioned manner on their ambitious 
schemes for getting along in the world. The roseate 
hues of hope emblazoned the walls of all their air 
castles, and the sky that canopied the world of their 
future was cloudless, radiant, glorious. There was a 
mutual exchange of family history, save that which 
both preferred not to tell. 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


I4S 

One night, while the boys were together at the 
boarding house of young Logan, the latter said, in a 
vague, hesitating way, that the name “ Logan ” was 
a rtiisnomer. 

** What do you mean by that?” 

Logan merely added : “ Had there never been an 
Indian chief by that name, I might have been John 
Smith, or John Jones, or John anything else you may 
imagine. It would certainly not have been John 
Logan, I would like to tell you all about it, Sidney, 
but dare not. Father does not allow me to speak of 
the matter outside of the family.” 

Young Logan and his friend grew in each other’s 
esteem and confidence daily, but however confiding 
in most things, young Walton was loath to speak of 
his plans even to his best friend. The ambition of 
the boy’s life was to be what his father had been, 
the master of a steamboat. That part of Captain 
Walton’s history had made a deep impression on the 
boy’s mind. There was little else in life worth living 
for; it was the acme, the very summit of his youthful 
ambition. It was this one idea, secretly and securely 
locked in his own breast, that had buoyed up and 
sustained him through all the weary, wretched years 
of home life ; that had brought him, at last, friend- 
less and penniless, to the great city. He knew that 
his father had risen by regular promotion from a low 
position to the very highest in the service, and why 
should he not be equally successful ? He did not 
reflect, perhaps did not know, how much money it 
took, backed by sterling merit, to elevate his father 
to a captaincy. Sidney had but merit alone, but 
with a brave heart, and a bright intellect, and a sound 
9 


146 


Tim BATTLE OF LIFE. 


body, he was ready and willing to struggle for the 
position he so earnestly coveted. He only asked 
that he might have room for the soles of his feet, 
and yet even this poor boon seemed denied him. 

Repeated failures, and the rapid depletion of his 
funds, constrained him to seek advice and consola- 
tion by revealing to young Logan all that was in his 
heart. 

Logan clapped his hands in an ecstacy of delight. 

“I am glad you mentioned it, Walton. Do not be 
discouraged, my good fellow. It will all end as you 
wish, never fear. I can now render you an important 
service. My father is clerk on a Mississippi steamer 
that plies between New Orleans and points above. 
She was here a week or two ago. It may be sev- 
eral months before she returns again, but you can 
wait. You can, in the meantime, get something to 
do by which to earn a living; but should you fail in 
this, I will share my wages with you until the Gen- 
eral Quitman returns, and then, with the help of my 
father, I will procure you a situation on that steamer. 
I used to have a place on the Quitman myself, but 
father thought the life dangerous and never rested 
until he got me on shore again. I tell you it was a 
bitter pill to give up the grand old steamer and 
come here and work, and study, and slave under old 
Cheatem; but father intends to make a lawyer of 
me, whether I will or not, and it seems that I am to 
have no choice whatever in the matter. It’s a lazy, 
mean life, learning to be a lawyer, and I have half a 
mind to run away from old Cheatem. If you will 
stick by me, Walton, I will stick by you, and it will 
all be right in the end. I intend to be a steamboat- 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


H7 

man, too, just as soon as I am old enough to do as I 
please.” 

A few days after the above conversation, a tele- 
graph operator called at the hotel and asked to see 
Sidney Walton. He was a man of thirty-five or 
forty and quite genteel in appearance and manners. 

My name is Morris,” said the stranger. “ I used 
to live in Harrodsburgh, Kentucky. I read of you 
in the paper the other day. l am well acquainted 
with your uncle. Col. Kit Hensley, and am several 
thousand dollars better off from having known him. 
You see, I had a very difficult law suit on my hands, 
relative to an estate which had reverted to me in 
rather an irregular way. I had no money at the 
time with which to fee the law sharks, and none of 
them would touch the case and trust to success at 
law for their fee. I had nearly despaired, when I 
was advised to try Col. Hensley. He readily under- 
took the case, and for a moderate fee, wholly con- 
tingent upon success, and greatly to my surprise and 
joy, won the suit. 

“ When I read of you — read that you were without 
money and friends, and in trouble, I felt that, for 
your uncle’s sake, I ought to help you. I have been 
on the look-out for you ever since, and only succeed- 
ed in learning of your whereabouts yesterday. If I 
can do anything to help you, I want to know it. If 
you need employment, I think I can get you a situa- 
tion.” 

“ I am very much obliged to you, Mr. Morris, and 
would like, exceedingly, to get some work to do, 
provided it is such as I am capable of to my own 
credit and to the satisfaction of my employer.” 


148 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


We need a messenger at the telegraph office. I 
think I can get you the place, but we can not pay 
you much until you learn the routes and get the run 
of the city.” 

I accept the place, Mr. Morris, with thanks, and 
would like to begin at once.” 

Well, call at the office to-morrow, and we will 
arrange the matter as much to your advantage as 
possible.” 

Morris had carefully prepared the way for Sidney. 
He secured the place without difficulty and soon 
learned to discharge the duties of the position to the 
satisfaction of all concerned. 


r 


CHAPTER XXV. 

A LION AT BAY. 

“ Let angry ocean to the sky 

In proud disdain his billows roll; 

Let thunder to his threats reply — 

Fear is a stranger to my soul.” 

M rs. WALTON lived in momentary dread of 
being dispossessed of house and home by 
Denis Piper. 

She had heard nothing from her husband since his 
flight, leaving her unprotected and almost penniless 
to battle with poverty and the greed of Piper, whose 
heart knew no pity. She neither knew where her 
husband was nor why he had gone away^. 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE, 


149 


Dr. Preston was the only person at Mt. Astar who 
knew, but he kept the secret honestly and faithfully. 

I He also knew the whereabouts of Sidney, who had, 

I like his father, requested and obtained a similar 
I pledge. No one knew of his visit to Cincinnati. 

I Preston had received several letters from Capt. Wal- 
1 ton, and, at last, after an interval of several months, 

I a package of money in which was a letter to Mrs. 
Walton. It read as follows: 

Dear Alice . — Circumstances, which I cannot now explain, drove 
me from home ; from you and our dear ones whom I love so well. I 
left the old home, feeling that my life had been worse than a failure ; 
that my future was hopeless ; that I had forfeited all claim to the re- 
spect and love of those who have ever been so near and dear to me; 
those I have'never, can never, cease to love with all my heart. I am 
trying to redeem the past. I have not touched a drop of liquor since 
! I left home. I am doing well. I am making money very fast. I 
send you, through my excellent friend. Dr. Preston, three hundred 
dollars. Pay Piper what you can spare of this amount. If he shows 
' any disposition to foreclose the mortgage, sell off all the stock you can 
spare, and pay as far as the money goes. Hire some experienced, 
well educated lady to live with you and teach the childreit. You had 
' better rent the farm, after this season, and give Sidney a chance to 
complete his education. If nothing happens, I will be able to pay for 
all this, and more. I am determined that you and the children shall 
■never again want for anything, not even the luxuries of life, if I keep 
my health and am able to work. I want Sidney to go to the McArthur 
High School at least one session before he enters college. The boy 
will certainly make a brilliant man if he has the proper training, andi 
is my intention that he shall not want for anything. I have done so 
little for him in the past, that nothing in the future will be too much, 
nor will it altogether relieve my conscience of the heavy burden of re- 
morse, stamped there, indellibly, by my own inexcusable cruelty. The 
demon of strong drink was the cause of it all, for I loved the boy, and 
still love him, as I do my own soul. Tell Rosa and Ella that I will 
send them each a nice present before long. Tell Artie that I love him 
as much as ever. Tell Sidney to give his pony to Artie, when he goes 
off to school, and I will send him a nice present worth equally as much. 
Your letters to me must pass through the hands of Dr. Preston. It is 
an arrangemenfbetween us. He knows all about my troubles, and is 
a. true, devoted friend to us all. As long as things are going on well, 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


150 

you need not write to me. I have good reasons for not telling you 
where I am and what I am doing, but my business is honorable, and I 
am living a sober, honorable life. Tell Sidney that he need not work 
any more ; that I greatly prefer that he should devote all his time to 
his studies. Remember me kindly to the children. It is a very pain- 
ful thought — one that distresses me greatly-^that my children may 
grow up and become strangers to me and me to them : hence I beg of 
you to mention me often, and kindly, to each of them, especially to 
the youngest. How I long to hold Ella on my knee and listen to her 
earnest, artless prattle, as 1 did before she became shy of me and would 
cower and hide Jierself at my approach, thinking me drunk, often, when 
I was really sober. Her timid manner was a terrible rebuke to me; 
more terrible than blows. Artie — God bless the dear little fellow ! — 
never feared me atv all, drunk or sober. I was bad enough in those 
days, God knows, and deseiwed the contempt and hatred of all the 
world, but I would have been worse, infinitely worse, had it not been 
for the tender love I always felt for my beautiful, darling boy. Had 
Sidney manifested a moiety of his brother’s kindness towards me, 
while drinking, it would have been better for us both ; but I do not 
blame him — no, no, no; I blame no one but myself. Your forbear- 
ance an-d patience should have saved me, dear^ Alice. Why it did not 
is more than I can tell. I have an idea — it comes to me often in the 
still hours of the night, when I am alone, communing with my own 
conscience — that but for your prayers I would be_past all hope of re- 
demption. I can never look you and the children in the face again 
until I have, as -far as in me lies, redeemed myself in the sight of all 
the world; yea, more, in the sight of God and His angels. I feel 
hopeful, and my constant prayer to God is for strength to resist temp- 
tation ; for help to help myself. Is it not strange that I should have 
fallen so low when surrounded by such hallowed influences ? I will 
tell you — nia7-k my wot'ds — it is not a confession, but nearer one than 
I have ever made before — nearer, perhaps, than I shall ever make 
again — there was a great trouble resting with crushing weight upon my 
heart ! and this trouble, imprisoned in my breast, led me to the tavern, 
tempted me to drink. You were blameless, the children were inno- 
cent, I alone were guilty ! May the merciful God of my father and 
mother, my wife and innocent children, protect and save me from my 
enemies, who hunt me down as they would a wild beast ; men whom 
I have never injured, God knows, and would not if I could. I desire 
to be at peace with all the world. I feel that I can forgive my worst 
enemies, even old Piper. May God give me the opportunity I am 
praying for — the opportunity to redeem myself in the sight of all the 
world ! Good-bye. Your affectionate linsband, 

Amos Wai.ton. 


THE'-JBATTLE OF LIFE. 


151 

The barkeeper of a fashionable drinking saloon 
in Louisville, Kentucky, stood with his back to the 
counter, busily at work arranging the bottles on the 
shelves, when a little frisky, dapper fellow entered 
the saloon as noiselessly as a cat. The vender of 
strong' drink did not notice the little man until he 
rapped nervously on the counter with his gold- 
I mounted rattan. 

Excuse me, I did not observe you when you en- 
tered the room. What will you have?” and the bar- 
keeper smoothed down his apron and assumed an 
attitude which meant to^say : at your service, sir. 

Have you a genuine article of Old Kentucky 
Bourbon ?” 

“We have, sir! Here’s the real stuff!” placing a 
long, black bottle on the counter. 

“Are you sure? ” said the strange littleman, tak- 
ing up the bottle and scanning the label, “are you 
sure it is genuine Old Bourbon ? ” 

“ Positively — no mistake.” 

“You see,” said the little man, “I am not a con- 
stant Srinker, and bad whisky flies to my head and 
makes me sick. I got hold of some ‘ Old Bourbon ’ 
while in Pittsburg last week which was only so in 
name — regular ‘ rot-gut,’ as you Americans call it, 
or ‘tangle-foot,’ as I have heard it called by those 
fellows who get their feet tangled and fall in the 
gutters and wake up in the station house,” and the 
little man laughed a merry little chuckle, all to him- 
self, while the barkeeper eyed him in grim silence, 
wondering what he would say next. 

The little man poured out a glass of liquor and 
said : 


152 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


** Just a little sugar and water, barkeeper, to soften 
the spirit and humor the bead. I like the looks of 
the liquor, and it smells divinely.” 

He sipped and talked, and talked and sipped, 
while the barkeeper stood in stolid indifference, as 
much as to say: “Fork over fifteen cents and get 
out!” but the little man did nothing of the sort. 
The whisky only increased his volubility. He con- 
tinued, without noticing the bartender’s impatience: 

“By the way, Mr. Barkeeper, you have a great 
country, and some very, very strange people. Speak- 
ing of Pittsburg, I had quite an adventure while in 
that city.” 

Just here, another stranger entered the saloon. 
He was a well-dressed, middle-aged man, tall, intel- 
ligent-looking, and apparently of a calm, sedate tem- 
perament, just the opposite, in every respect, of the 
speaker. The tall man quietly paused on entering 
the room and rested his elbow on the counter. He 
nodded to the barkeeper without speaking, showing 
by his manner that he did not wish to disturb the 
conversation. 

The little man continued : 

“You see, I am not an American — I am a Scotch- 
man — originally from Dundee, Scotland, but, lately, 
of Glasgow. I am the traveling agent for a large 
tobacco establishment in that city. We buy very 
largely of American dealers. On my way from Rich- 
mond to Wheeling, I stopped a day or two in Pitts- 
burg. I registered my name at the hotel and the 
clerk, seeing I was from Scotland, said to me : 

“ ‘ Mr. McGregory, there is a very intelligent, 
clever fellow in business here who hails from your 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


153 


country; a Mr. Chambers, of Dundee, Scotland. He 
commenced business in this city as an engineer at 
the Allegheny Iron Mills, and rose rapidly from one 
position to another until he has at last reached the 
highest place in the gift of the company. I am well 
acquainted with Chambers, and esteem him a man of 
sense and culture, and a thorough gentleman.’ 

I called on Mr. Chambers,” continued McGregor, 
*‘and found him seated at his desk, surrounded by 
piles of ledgers, journals and account books. I 
handed him my card. He read it, looked up in my 
face, then at the open ledger before him, and said: 

“ ‘Well, what can I do for you, Mr. .McGregory ?’ 

“ ‘ Nothing, in the way of service, Mr. Chambers, 
thank you. I have just learned from a friend of 
yours that you are a native of Dundee, Scotland, 
and, being a Dundee Scotchman myself, I thought 
I would like to make your acquaintance and talk 
with you about the dear old town and its people.’ 
Chambers looked confused — dropped his pen, picked 
it up again — then turned half around in his seat, and 
in a voice that faltered in spite of himself, said : 

“ ‘ I have not time to talk to you this morning, 
Mr. McGregory ; you will please call again when I 
have more leisure.’ 

“ Saying this, he turned his back on me and re- 
sumed his writing, or pretended to do so. I was 
satisfied by his manner that he never saw Dundee in 
his life. He certainly would not have treated me so 
coolly but for the hope of getting rid of me. I went 
away with the determination of calling again, for I 
was anxious to get at the bottom of this mystery. 
When I called the next day Chambers rose from his 


154 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


desk and hurriedly disappeared through one door as 
I entered the other. I helped myself to a seat; took 
the morning paper from my pocket and whiled away 
an hour or two reading the news and waiting for 
Chambers to return. I was seated so as to . get a 
side view of the window. I saw him return and look 
in, but he did not enter. It was plain that he was 
dodging an interview; not that he disliked being 
bored, but because he could not talk with a native 
of Dundee without exposing himself. I could have 
ruined the fellow, perhaps, but I did nothing to his 
injury. I never mentioned the affair to a soul while 
in that city. When the clerk inquired about Cham- 
bers, I pretended to have had a pleasant talk with 
that individual, declaring that I found him to be a 
polished and agreeable gentleman.” 

When McGregory turned to go out, the tall man 
followed him into the street, and, touching the little 
man gently on the shoulder, said : 

“ Excuse me for askings — I have no motive in the 
world for doing so save curiosity — but I have listen- 
ed with profound interest to your strange story, so 
graphically told, and would like to know more of this 
singular individual. What kind of looking man is 
this Chambers ? how old? ” 

McGregory, flattered by the stranger’s request, 
gave him a full description of Chambers, even to the 
color and style of his clothing. 

An hour later, the tall man was on the train, en 
route for Pittsburg. 

Chambers, after visiting the express office, where 
he received a large sum of money belonging to the 
company, dropped into a barber’s shop to get shaved 
and have his hair trimmed. 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE, 


155 


The barber had cut his hair very carefully and was 
just giving his face a finishing touch with the razor, 
when a tall, strange man entered the shop. He step- 
ed briskly and nervously . up to within a few feet of 
the chair in which Chambers was sitting, and said, 
in a decisive, ringing tone of voice that could not be 
mistaken by any one who had ever heard it before : 

‘‘ Captain, I am glad to meet you ! ” 

The speaker was Keating. The man addressed 
was Captain Walton. 

Walton bowed his head slightly, but did not speak. 

Keating stood silently watching his victim as a 
spider would watch a fly, hopelessly entangled in his 
web. 

When the barber had finished shaving Walton, the 
latter quietly rose from his seat. Keating observed 
that he was remarkably cool, but pale as a corpse. 
He turned towards the detective and said, in a voice 
that did not betray his emotion or excitement in the 
least : 

“ Come with me ? ” pointing in the direction of the 
bath-room. 

The detective observed him narrowly. He was in 
his shirt sleeves. There were evidently no arms on 
his person. His thin blouse, which he had careless- 
ly thrown into a vacant chair, had no pockets. The 
detective, being well armed, did not hesitate to fol- 
low him into the bath-room. There were two doors 
to this room, one opening into the barber shop, the 
other into a narrow back street. No one was in the 
room at the time. 

Walton opened the door and Keating passed in 
first. 


156 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


The moment Keating’s back was turned to Wal- 
ton — and it was only for a moment — the latter pulled 
a roll of bank notes from one of his pockets and a 
long dagger from another. Closing the door behind 
him, he threw the roll of money at Keating’s feet, 
and, stepping very close to him, said : 

There is three thousand dollars ! It is worth 
more to you than my life. I have never injured you 
by word or act, nor any of your clan,” and stepping 
still closer, and raising his dagger as if to strike, he 
continued : 

There’s the money; take it, or you are a dead 
man.^ I had just as well be hanged for a sheep as a 
lamb. Choose between this weapon and the roll of 
money that lies at your feet.” 

“ Hold ! just a moment, Captain ! just a moment ! 
Let me have time to think ! let me reason with you ! ” 
“Very well! you will excuse precaution against 
accidents, as I am determined to do what I say,” and 
he clutched the detective by the coat collar with his 
left hand. “ If you have- anything to say, say on.” 

“ Captain, this is all very foolish 1 How do you 
know that I will not deceive you ? how do you know 
that I will keep silent even if I should promise? 
Even if I should accept the money ? I might go 
into the street and raise the hue and cry. The 
money you offer me is probably not yours. You 
would then stand convicted of a double crime. You 
had better go quietly along with me. What’s to 
hinder me now from calling at the top of my voice 
for help? from crying murder I murder?'' 

“This dagger ! blood-hound 1 I will drive it home 
to your cowardly heart if you dare to whisper the 
word to my peril ! ” 


THE BATTLE OF LIEE. 


157 

Keating had lost all self-possession, and was trem- 
bling like an aspen leaf. Had he stood between the 
paws of a hungry lion, he would not have felt more 
frightened. 

“ Are you ready ? ” 

‘‘For what?’* 

“ To die like a dogT 

“And you? what of you?” faltered the detective. 

“I will* not have to die for killing an innocent, 
honest, clever gentleman, alone ; but for killing a 
dog, as well; one who has tracked me through all 
these years. Come, I have no more to say — I shall 
not open my lips to speak again — my argument of 
words is finished — it is now cold steel ! Are you 
ready? ” And he lifted the dagger on a level with 
his head, and glared upon the cowering detective, his 
teeth firmly clenched, his breathing short and crisp 
like a man in the throes of deadly conflict. 

He meant to kill the detective, then and there. 
It was plain enough. Keating, fortunately for him- 
self, understood the situation thoroughly. There 
was but one course left to him. He must yield — 
accept the money and let the culprit go. He was a 
brave, proud, stubborn man ; but he had to deal with 
a braver, driven to desperation. 

Walton knew if the detective once accepted the 
mon^y, he would stand by the. act, however humili- 
ating to his professional pride, and he reasoned cor- 
rectly. 

Keating said, in a voice trembling with excitement 
and fear: 

“ I accept your offer. Captain ; we will count the 
money.” 


THE jBATTLE of life. 


158 

“ I have counted it already ; there are three thou- 
sand dollars. If you doubt my word, count it your- 
self.” 

Keating stooped to the floor and counted the 
money, spreading one bill upon another, while Wal- 
ton stood over him with his dagger drawn, watching 
him intently. 

The count proved correct. Keating pogketed the 
money and the two men walked back into the barber 
shop and out into the street arm in arm as though 
nothing serious had happened. 


CHAPTER XXVI. 

SAD NEWS. 

“ The blight of hopes and happiness 
Is felt when fond ones part, 

And the bitter tear that flows, is 
The life-blood of the heart.” 

I N the rear of the office of the Allegheny Iron 
Works was a drinking saloon frequented by the 
roughest class of people. Their disorderly con- 
duct was very annoying to Chambers, or Walton, as 
we shall now call the chief clerk of the establishment. 
The second night after his interview with Keating, 
he sat at his desk till a late hour, vainly striving to 
devise some plan of action whereby he might shield 
himself from ruin and disgrace. The money he had 
given the detective was not his own. It belonged 


THE BATTLE OE LIFE, 


159 


to the company. He had received it but a few h ours 
before through the express office in return for a large 
consignment of railroad iron. 

Walton was a shrewd business man. He knew 
that he could not keep the company ignorant of this 
transaction much longer. He had reached a chasm 
which neither human intelligence nor effort could 
bridge. He must abandon his post, launch out into 
the world again with the crime of embezzlement 
added to that of murder resting upon his soul. 
Henceforth he could be neither Walton nor Cham- 
bers, for a crime rested upon the name of both. 

He sat with his face buried in his hands, the dim 
light scarcely casting a shadow upon the open ledger 
before him. What could he do to avert the calamity 
which now stared him in the face? This question 
returned like an echo to mock his troubled soul. 
The sounds of revelry grated harshly upon his ears 
to-night. He rose from his seat to close the door 
and window, thinking that he might in a measure 
shut out the disagreeable sounds thg,t came from the 
turbulent crowd across the street. It was past mid- 
night. As he stepped to the door, the lights in the 
saloon were suddenly extinguished and the doors 
closed. The proprietor hurriedly locked the door 
and went away. Just then Walton’s attention was 
attracted by the violent words of two men standing 
near the entrance of the saloon. They were in a 
towering passion. Words soon led to blows, and one 
of the men drew a pistol and fired. His antagonist 
fell dead at his feet. 

The murderer turned and fled. A policeman ran 
down the dark street and past the saloon, but with- 
out observing the dead body. 


i6o 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


Soon all was still again. Walton stepped to the 
place where the two men had fought, and, in the 
darkness, stumbled over the body of the dead man. 
Lighting a match, he discovered at a glance that the 
murdered man was about his own height, and ii^ize 
and form very much like himself. 

The idea instantly flashed into the mind of Wal- 
ton to assume the role of a dead man — dead to the 
iron company, to the detectives, yea, to all the world, 
and, withal, a martyr to duty. The three thousand 
dollars could thus be accounted for to his own credit, 
and the unknown assassin would bear the blame of 
theft as well as murder. 

Taking the dead body in his arms, he carried it 
into the offlce. Closing the doors, he deliberately 
donned the roustabout’s clothing. The change thus 
effected was complete. No one could ever recog- 
nized him in the garb of a steamboat rough. 

The dead man’s face was terribly disfigured by 
the -shot, but a close examination by daylight might 
even yet reveal his identity. There was but one 
remedy for this, and Walton was desperate enough 
to avail himself of it. Seizing an iron poker, he beat 
the dead man’s head and face into a shapeless mass, 
frightful to behold. His next act was to transfer 
such of his own property to the dead man’s pockets 
as would strengthen the delusion ; among other 
things a blank book, after, as he thought, tearing 
out such Jeaves as were written upon and might lead 
to the discovery that Berry Chambers was Amos 
Walton, but, in the hurry and confusion of the mo- 
ment, he overlooked a letter from Dr. Preston, which 
lay closely between the leaves. The next act in this 


THE BA TTLE OF LIFE. 


i6l 


singular drama was to make an entry in the book 
showing that he had received three thousand dollars 
from a firm in Nashville the day before the supposed 
murder. The book was left open, and near the dead 
man lay the pen with which this entry seemed to 
have been written. The key was left in the safe. 
The furniture of the room was overturned to indi- 
cate a fierce struggle between the dead man and the 
living. 

Everything now being ready, Walton stole quietly 
out through the back door of the office, latching but 
not locking it behind him. When the sun rose he 
was many miles away, having taken possession of a 
skiff and oars found loosely tied to a stake on the 
river bank. Reaching Wheeling, he abandoned the 
skiff and took the cars for Baltimore. 

The murder of Chambers and the robbery of the 
safe afforded a lively sensation for the daily press, 
and it was given their readers at great length. It 
was an article of much interest to all, but of untold 
interest to one man, at least, who read it with a feel- 
ing of sorrow hard to describe. That individual was 
Dr. Preston, the friend and patron of the Waltons. 
The article, relieved of all verbage and presented in 
i its shortest and simplest form, read as follows : 

5 FOUND DEAD AT HIS POST. 

About six o'’ clock this morning the chief clerk of the Allegheny Iron 
"Works was found dead in his office. He had evidently been mur- 
dered the night before, his head being fractured, beaten into a jelly, 
with an iron bar which was found lying on the floor near by. The 
! object of the assassin was evidently to get possession of several thou- 
[ sand dollars which the clerk had lately received and which the books 
i show to have been in the safe at the time. Chambers, or Walton, had 
evidently resisted, manfully, but it is supposed that the* assassin struck 
‘ him from behind with the bar while he was sitting at his desk, and, 

1 10 


i 62 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


being stunned by tbe blow, must have fought under the greatest disad- 
vantage. The murdered man had entered the service of the company 
under an assumed name and was known as Berry Chambers. He 
would have gone to his grave as such had it not been for a letter found 
on his person which read as follows : 

Mt. Astar, Ohio, , i8 — . 

Captain Amos Walton. 

My Dear Sir : — I am happy to inform you that the deeds of trust 
which Piper held on your house and lands have been cancelled. I 
have informed Mrs. Walton, as I inform you to-day, that the matter 
is settled. How it was settled, and by whom, I care not to say, but 
when the day shall come in which you can settle the amount without 
embarrassment, believe me. Captain, I shall not hesitate to inform you 
of all the particulars. You express much regret at having to sail under 
false colors ; in other words, it gives you much pain that you must, for 
the present, exist under an assumed name. Now, my dear sir, know- 
ing all the circumstances of your strange, eventful history, I can assure 
you that you stand blameless in my eyes. I am gratified to learn that 
you are doing well. I have completely tamed the old serpent. Piper. 
He trembles at the very sight of me. I have not time this morning to 
tell you all, but will write at greater length some other time. Believe 
me, my dear sir, I am, as ever, your true friend, 

Charles Preston, M. D. 


It was a delicate task, one that required the most 
consummate skill and address, to communicate this 
sad news to the wife of the murdered man — the sup- 
posed victim of a double crime. Dr. Preston, so used to 
scattering sunshine in the pathway of others, dreaded 
this painful yet imperative duty not a little. He did 
not call on Mrs. Walton until he had satisfied him- 
self by thorough inquiry that he alone had received 
a copy of the paper containing an account of the 
murder. The villagers were slow, plodding people 
and generally got their news'second-handed, and, for 
once in his life. Dr. Preston was glad of this. It 
enabled him to put his own construction on the mur- 
der of Capt. Walton. He would make it as favorable 
to his unfortunate friend, and as consoling to the 
unhappy wife and widow, as possible. 


TRE BATTLE OF LIFE, 


163 

He expected a scene, and dreaded it. He had a 
horror of fainting women. He had seen a great deal 
of human misery in his professional visits to the 
maimed, the sick and the dying, but somehow he 
had never acquired that stolid indifference to human 
sorrow which makes the average physician almost las 
hard as steel. 

Mrs. Walton was alone when Dr. Preston called. 
She met him with a genial smile, and thanked him, 
over and over again, for saving her from expulsion 
from the humble roof which now alone sheltered her 
and hers from the pitiless storms of adversity. 

The doctor checked her suddenly, but not rudely, 
by remarking that he deserved no thanks ; he had 
only done his duty. The friendship which remained 
indifferent to the misery of others was unworthy the 
name. He wished from his heart that he could in- 
crease, not diminish, her joy, but it was his painful 
duty to inform her of some very bad news. 

The doctor paused for a moment. 

Mrs. Walton turned deadly pale at the words, 
“ bad news,” and opened her lips as if to speak, but 
could only articulate : 

“ Sidney ! ” 

Not Sidney, madam ; no harm has befallen your 
son.” 

“ Then it's my poor husband ! What has happen- 
ed ? What has happened to him ? ” and she buried 
her face in her hands and sobbed convulsively. 

“ Dead, madam ! murdered at his desk by a thief 
who robbed him of three thousand dollars. It was 
for the money that he was murdered. He died de- 
fending the money of his employers, who speak of 
him in the highest praise.” 


164 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


The doctor excused himself and departed, leaving 
Mrs. Walton to break the sad news to her children — 
leaving the stricken household alone in their sorrow. 


CHAPTER XXVII. 


THE CAPTAIN. 


He’s six feet one way, and three feet t’other. 

And weighs three hundred pounds.” 

/^APTAIN LEWIS, of the Quitman, was the 
Southern ideal of a steamboat captain. Fat, 
jovial, good-natured and accommodating, he 
seemed to have but one aim in life, that of making 
others happy, and he succeeded so well in this that 
his boat had become the general favorite of the trav- 
eling public. 

The Quitman was a Mississippi packet, a general 
name applied to most of the well-equipped steamers 
of ante bellum days. Capt. Lewis, like many others 
in his sphere of life, had risen by regular promotion 
from the lowest to the highest position in the service. 
His repertoire of anecdotes was almost inexhaustible. 
His merry laugh and cheerful voice was last heard 
at night and the first in the morning. Not a soul on 
the boat, from the rough, ignorant deck-hand to the 
chief clerk, but honored and loved the jolly captain, 
and obeyed him, too, for he was not a jovial figure- 
head, whose good-nature warranted the least act of 
disobedience, While he ruled by mild and gentle 


THE BATTLE OE LIFE. 165 

suasion, his authority was never trifled with. Had 
he told the pilot to head the boat up stream and re- 
turn to St. Louis an hour after starting for New 
Orleans, the man at the wheel would have done so 
without asking a question. Had he told the engineer 
to open his valves and blow off every pound of steam, 
he would have obeyed, even if the vessel had been 
in the middle of the river and ten miles from port. 

Sidney Walton had gone to deliver a message to 
a firm doing business near the steamboat landing, 
and, as usual with him when visiting that locality, 
he went aboard a number of boats lying at the wharf. 
Steamboatmen had become use to these visits and 
scarcely noticed the boy, though none of them, not 
even the roughest, treated him rudely. His manner 
was pleasing, and he never wearied them with idle, 
foolish questions. He had applied for employment 
to the officers of nearly all the boats visiting the city, 
but did not insist, and never in a single instance had 
he repeated his request. Though he was now, thanks 
to his friend Morris, an excellent telegraph operator, 
he yet had no situation as such ; and his mind ever 
turned fondly to his first love — the river — and all his 
leisure hours were spent among the shipping, or in 
company with steamboatmen of the better class, 
from whom he eagerly learned all that he could 
concerning the business for which he was preparing 
himself the best he knew how. This morning he 
had gone the usual rounds, but more from force of 
habit than from any hope of profiting by the visit. 
He had reached the shore and was about returning 
to the office, when, casting his eyes far down the 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE, 


1 66 

river, he saw the tall red chimneys of a strange 
steamboat towering like minarets far above the tree 
tops on either shore. Between the chimneys stood 
the bronze statue of a man, dressed in the uniform 
of an American general. This figure was supposed 
to represent General Quitman, the pride of his gen- 
eration and the idol of the Southern heart. 

When the great steamer rounded to and the planks 
were run out, hundreds of well-dressed men, women 
and children rushed ashore with eager haste. The 
passengers* were not only strangers to Sidney, but 
appeared to be equally so to those on shore who 
eyed them with lively interest. 

As soon as an opportunity offered, Sidney quietly 
slipped aboard the vessel, his heart beating with 
lively emotion at sight of the great steamer about 
which he had heard so much and for the coming of 
which he had longed earnestly and without ceasing. 

On the hurricane deck he met Capt. Lewis. The 
boy was awed into timid silence at the immense size 
and majestic mien of the commander. He would 
have quietly passed on, and gladly, had not the cap- 
tain hailed him in a loud, cheerful voice : 

Which way, lad ? Looking for some of your 
friends? The passengers have all gone ashore.” 

“ I was only looking at the boat, sir. The passen- 
gers are all strangers to me. If you please, sir, how 
long will you remain at Cincinnati ? ” 

“Several days; perhaps a week. We brought up 
a delegation of Masons, on their way to the conven- 
tion at Columbus. We shall wait the pleasure of our 
passengers.” 

“ Can I see you on business to-morrow ? ” 


THE BA2HZE OF LIFE, 


167 

^ Business ! business ! ” echoed the genial captain 
in a tone of voice which indicated surprise, yet smil- 
^^g,^ood-naturedly as he looked down into the pale, 
earnest face of the boy. “Yes, yes; come when 
you feel like it.” 

Sidney strolled into the clerk’s office and took a 
look at Logan. He would have known him among a 
thousand from the close resemblance he bore to his 
friend, John Logan, the only difference being that of 
age. 

The clerk of the Quitman was, comparatively 
speaking, still a young man, both in years and looks. 
His face indicated a temperate, well-regulated life, 
but his black hair was slightly flecked with gray, and 
his general appearance indicated a life of toil, disap- 
pointment and care. He was evidently an unhappy 
man. 

Logan merely looked up when Sidney entered the 
office, and then resumed his labor without saying a 
word. 

Sidney doffed his cap, and, stepping close to the 
side of the clerk, said : 

“Excuse me, Mr. Logan, I believe you are the 
father of John Logan, who clerks for Mr. Cheatem 
in this city ? ” 

At the mention of his son’s name, Logan dropped 
his pen and assumed an air of deep interest. 

“ Yes, Johnnie Logan is my son. Do you know 
Johnnie ? ” 

“ Oh, very well, sir. Johnnie is a very good friend 
of mine. He has been very kind to me since I came 
to the city. I have heard him speak of you very 
often. I would have known you, sir, for you are 


i68 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


just like Johnnie. I have been wanting to see you 
for many months ; I will not say why, at least not 
now, but will see you again, after you have met and 
talked with Johnnie. We have talked the matter 
over between us, and Johnnie knows all about my 
plans and wishes.” 

‘‘Very well; my son will have leave of absence 
to-morrow. He will spend the day with me on board 
the Quitman. You may come with him and wel- 
come. Johnnie’s friends are my friends.” 

As Sidney turned to leave, Logan called to him: 

“ You have not told me your name.” 

At the mention of “ Walton,” something like a 
frown seemed to flit over the face of Logan, but it 
was only fora, moment. He walked with Sidney to 
the door and took leave of him in the kindest manner. 

It was arranged next day that Sidney should as- 
sist Logan in the office, and the few days yet remain- 
ing before the steamer left_ for New Orleans were 
spent by him in making arrangements for this im- 
portant and eventful change in life. 

Logan made no further enquiries concerning the 
boy, and nothing was said relative to his parentage. 

Morris had become very much attached to young 
Walton. He had not only secured a place for him 
but had taken the boy into his family and had come 
to regard him with almost the same affection he felt 
for his own children, hence he used all the argu- 
ments he could think of to persuade the boy to re- 
main, but to no purpose. At parting the generous 
Kentuckian said ; 

“You have been a good boy, Sidney Walton; you 
have more than realized my most extravagant hopes. 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


169 

I think you are decidedly wrong in going away, but, 
perhaps, you know best. I have no moral or legal 
right to dictate what you shall do ; I am only sorry 
to part with you — that’s all. I have but one word of 
advice: You have entered the service of a good 
man, but, like many generous, noble, whole-souled 
fellows, Capt. Lewis drinks. He does so because he 
honestly believes it does him good, and for this very 
reason he likes to see his friends make merry over 
the bottle. The bar is an important feature of the 
Quitman. You can’t avoid it, nor the people who 
frequent it, for your duties will throw you continually 
among those who drink, but you cait avoid the bottle^ 
If you desire to be anything in the world, avoid 
strong drink as you would the bite of a venomous 
serpent. Was that the last bell ? ” 

“Yes, sir.” 

. “ Then, good-bye, my boy ! Remember what I 
have said to you ! ” 

Many of the passengers lingered upon deck, watch- 
ing the receding shore until the eager, bustling throng 
faded from view in the distance. For a long time 
Sidney- could -observe the tall form of Morris, stand- 
ing where his feet had first touched the shore, look- 
ing fai down the river, his eyes steadily fixed upon 
the boat, now rapidly- disappearing in the distance. 
He saw him take from his pocket a white handker- 
chief and wave it over his head ; the boy returned 
the salute in the same manner, and the two lost sight 
of each other — forever. 

There is nothing immutable in this life. Change 
is written everywhere, to be seen and read of all men. 
Without feeling and co^d as an iceberg must be the 


me BATTLE OB LIFE. 


170 

heart that has never felt a thrill of sad emotion at 
parting from friends and loved ones, who go where 
we cannot, or stay where we cannot remain. There 
are few Ruths and Naomis in real life, however 
numerous in sentiment and fiction, but the Orpaths 
are many, and they suffer most of all. 

“ As waters ripple in their flow, 

Yet languish in the bay ; 

There’s less of sadness when wa go 
Than when we’re doomed to $tay.” 


CHAPTER XXVIII. 

COL. HENSLEY HEARS SOME NEWS. 

“ And o’er that fair broad brow were wrought 
The intersected lines of thought ; 

Those furrows, which the burning share 
Of sorrow ploughs untimely there.” 

M orris had returned to Harrodsburgh, his old 
home, on a visit. He had not met his old 
friend. Col. Hensley, for many years and was 
surprised to mark the many changes which time had 
stamped upon his handsome, honest face. After 
talking on commonplace subjects for a while, Morris 
spoke of Sidney Walton. Col. Hensley seemed in 
a deep study for several minutes. At last he said, 
with an air of seeming indifference: 

“ I had almost forgotten, Morris, that I had a rel- 
ative by that name. I knew, of course, that Alice 
married a fellow by the name of Walton, a steam- 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


171 

boat captain, I believe, but I have not heard of them 
for many years. Do you think the boy is of any 
account, Morris?” 

“Well, Colonel, I have two little boys at home 
around whom cluster all the ambitious hopes of my 
life. I would not wish for them a brighter future 
than that which I believe to be in store for your 
nephew.” 

“Well, Morris, that is an earnest, sincere way of 
getting at the point ; but do you know the boy very 
well ? His father was a sorry dog.” 

“ The boy was a member of my family for nearly 
a year, and I had an excellent opportunity of know- 
ing him, and beyond doubt he is a credit to. your 
family.” 

“ Why did he leave you, Morris ?” 

“ He had an ambition for the river, but his aim is 
high and his aspirations are honorable.” 

“ His father was a steamboat man.” 

“ Yes, so he told me.” 

“ Morris, that man Walton was a wretched fraud.” 

“ I hope you are too severe, sir. The boy seems 
to love him very much ; he could hardly have been 
so bad as you make him.” 

“ Did you learn from the boy any particulars con- 
cerning his father?” 

“ I asked Sidney concerning his father’s business 
in life, but regretted having done so, as it forced 
from him the painful confession that his father was a 
tramp.” 

“Well, I am not surprised at this; would not be 
surprised to hear any day that he was hanged or 
sent to the penitentiary. Do you know the name of 


1/2 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


the boat on which my nephew is employed, and the 
captain’s name ?” 

“ The Quitman — Captain Lewis — Mississippi 
packet.” 

“ I may have occasion, some time in the future, of 
making the acquaintance of my nephew,” continued 
Col. Hensley, writing the name in a small blank book, 
“and hope to find the fellow all your fancy paints 
him, but I must confess, I have serious doubts. How- 
ever, the young fellow may please me well enough, 
and it will be a feather in his cap if he does, for I 
have not yet been able to take a particle of interest 
in the children of my brothers and sisters here in 
Kentucky. They have been stuffed to repletion 
with education — with accomplishments innumerable 
— but Morris, they are commonplace — none of them 
will ever amount to anything. I am 'sick of their 
simpering flattery and patronizing nonsense. I’ll 
found a college, or build a monument to Daniel 
Boone, or some other man, before I will make any 
of them heirs to my estate.” 

“You speak as though you had no family of your 
own. Colonel. When I knew you, if I mistake not, 
you had a family.” 

“ Dead, Morris ! all dead ! I had a wife then, and 
two children. My oldest boy, kad he lived, would 
have been a man to-day. He and his brother died 
within a few months of each other. Other children 
were born, grew up to be promising boys and girls 
only to die and leave my home utterly desolate. At 
last my wife sickened and died, and now I am alone 
in the world. It’s all right — I suppose — but its — its 
d — d hard to bear !” 


THE BA TTLE OF LIFE, 


173 


The fond dream of Albert Early’s life — indepen- 
dent, luxurious ease — was no sooner within his grasp 
than the demon of ambition — to him it was nothing 
else — crossed tTie threshold of his elegant home, con- 
fusing, disarranging, crushing all his cherished plans 
for the future. He was not allowed the opportunity 
of becoming a quiet factor in the sum total of hu- 
manity. Against his wishes, yea, against his earnest 
protest, he had been nominated for a seat in Con- 
gress, and to make matters worse, this ^lomination 
was equivalent to an election. , Early would have de- 
clined the honor, even after receiving the nomina- 
tion, but his ambitious family were not satisfied with 
their present good fortune, with social distinctions 
that could only be known and appreciated by a se- 
lect few. His wife and handsome daughter were 
anxious to shine in Washington society, where the 
great men of the country and their families are 
wont to congregate. Miss Early could there see the 
flower of the land, and take her choice. She was 
ambitious — her mother was ambitious — her brother 
was most ambitious of all. 

Would Miss Duvall accompany them to Washing- 
ton City? This was now the all-important question 
to be settled. Mrs. Duvall said that Eva would go, 
but Eva was strangely silent on the subject. She 
remained painfully reticent while the Earlys were 
enthusiastically engaged in their preparations for a 
winter campaign on the quiet Potomac. 

It was a nice arrangement, throwing Eva and Al- 
lan Early within a few hours travel of each other, 
but the fact that Washington City and Annapolis 
were almost within sight, excited no enthusiasm, no 


174 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


interest in the heart of Miss Duvall, and at the very 
last hour she flatly refused to make one of the party, 
pleading that she had arranged to spend the winter 
with friends in New Orleans. There was no help for 
it. Mrs. Duvall coaxed, Mrs. Early flattered. Miss 
Early cried, but Eva remained firmly resolute. 

Early laughed at his wife and daughter ibr dis- 
playing so much feeling on the subject, and wisely 
dissuaded them from urging Miss Duvall further on 
the subject. 

It was agreed that Eva should accompany the 
party as far as New Orleans, and so the matter was 
at last settled just as the heiress of Duvall had de- 
termined from the start. 


CHAPTER XXIX. 

CAPTAIN LEWIS TELLS A FEW SECRETS. 


“ A gossip ? 

“Yea, truly ; but not a mischief-maker. His tongue’s as free from 
slander as his heart is free from guile.” 


/T\ HE Quitman had reached the Mississippi river 
on her return trip. 

Sidney Walton had been assigned to duty 
under Logan; but not without a protest from that 
official, who insisted that he did not need the young 
man’s help. Having expressed his mind very plainly, 
he felt piqued at the action of Captain Lewis for 
placing young Walton in the office against his protest, 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


m 

and took no pains to conceal his displeasure. This 
made the situation exceedingly unpleasant, and the 
boy’s mortification had not escaped the attention of 
Captain Lewis. 

Late one night Lewis sent for Sidney, requesting 
that he make one of a party of three at the Captain’s 
state room. Sidney expected to meet Lewis and 
Logan, but there was no one in the room but the 
Captain, who rose to greet him in the most affable 
manner. 

“The party of the third part. Master Walton, is an 
old friend of mine,” said the Captain, smiling. “ I 
shall expect you to treat him kindly for my sake.” 

“ I see no one but yourself. Captain,” said the boy, 
somewhat surprised at this strange question. 

“ Excuse me, I should have introduced my friend, 
sans ceremonie, ^diS I usually do at my informal recep- 
tions. Mr. Sidney Walton, permit me to introduce 
my old and esteemed friend, John Barleycorn, of 
Bourbon county, Kentucky,” and taking the bottle 
in his left hand and laying his right gently on the 
boy’s shoulder, he continued : “Judging from your 
pale face, I suppose you two have been strangers 
until to-night. John is none of your cold-bloodeb, 
selfish fellows, but warm of heart, genial and true ! 
When presented to a friend he always insists upon 
receiving a kiss of friendly recognition. It will do 
you no harm to salute our mutual friend with a 
* buss,’ 'and thou lovest me ;’ do so quickly, as I am 
impatient to do likewise.” 

Sidney took the bottle, but did not put it to his 
lips. Holding it in his hand, he said : 

“ Hear me, Captain Lewis, and when I have finish- 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


176 

ed, if you still insist that I shall drink, I will do so : 
I had a father whom I loved and honored, not alone 
from a sense of duty but because he was worthy of 
my love. The bottle drove him from wealth and 
respectability to the gutters, and his downward jour- 
ney was made through the tears of his household ; 
whose sufferings no mortal can ever know ; no eye 
but the all-seeing eye of God ever beheld th-e terrors 
and tortures endured in our home, growing out of 
his dissipation. The friend of my childhood, the 
strength and support of my boyhood, the man, of all 
men, who most deserves my reverence — one whom I 
feel it to be my duty to obey in all things reasonable — 
exacted a pledge from me not to drink. The man 
who found me a friendless waif in the great city of 
Cincinnati and took me to his home, gave me a place 
in his office, learned me a trade by which, if neces- 
sary, I can always earn a living, exacted a similar 
pledge at parting. I have sworn to God and to those 
men not to drink. I have kept my vows faithfully 
up to this very hour. Shall I perjure myself? Shall 
I do violence to my own conscience and forfeit, 
forever, my Self-respect ? ” and he raised the bottle 
half-way to his lips, looking the while full in the face 
of the Captain, who had listened with breathless in- 
terest to the thrilling, impassioned eloquence^of this 
earnest- appeal. Lewis sprang to his feet, seized the 
bottle, saying in a voice husky w'ith emotion : 

“No, no, no! God forgive me, Sidney Walton, 
for thus tempting you ; it shall never be again,” and 
he threw the bottle out through the window into the 
river. 

The Captain evidently regretted his rashness, for 


THE BATTLE OB LIFE. 


m 


he directly rang for a waiter and sent him to the bar 
for another bottle. After taking several drinks in 
silence he said : 

How are you getting along, Walton ? ” 

** I do not complain, Captain, but if it is all the 
same with you, I think I ’would feel more comfort- 
able in the pilot house or below with the engineer.” 

‘‘ I understand it all. Logan was opposed to you 
from the start, but why I know not. His salary has 
not been cut down on your account. The work you 
do, or may do if allowed the privilege, would give 
him leisure to enjoy himself. I tried to explain this, 
but to no purpose. He is a queer fellow, this Logan, 
and his history, so far as I have been able to learn, 
is stranger than a romance. Without parents, rela- 
tives or friends — without name even — he has strug- 
gled from post to pillow, from the Great Kanawha 
to the Crescent City, from an apprentice to a cooper 
to an independent boot-black ; then from a servant 
boy on a tug-boat, to an engineer; then a pilot, 
afterwards captain of a Red river cotton boat, which 
took fire at Shreveport and burned to the water’s 
edge, leaving him as poor as a church mouse. We 
next hear of him as a deck-hand on a coasting 
steamer running between New Orleans and Galves- 
ton. He stuck to this vessel until he became first 
mate. His ship was wrecked and nearly all on 
board were lost. Logan was picked up next day, 
clinging to a plank. He has been in several explo- 
sions, one collision and two fires since then. Is it at 
all strange that he should be gray-headed at the age 
of thirty-five? I tell you, Walton, I have treated 
this man with more forbearance than I would a 
ll 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


17 % 

brother. There is something so pathetic, so sad in 
his history, and he is'so proud withal, that I have a 
certain kind of respect for him that I do not feel for 
other men, yet he does not repay my kindness with 
anything but honest, faithful service. He drinks 
nothing but water. He is as wicked as a pirate, but 
never swears. He can hate a man with all his heart, 
yet never speak a harmful word of him to any one. 
He is the queerest compound of humanity I ever 
met with. He is a gentleman, a man of considerable 
culture, and proud, very proud. His wife is the 
prettiest woman, except one, I have ever met with in 
all my travels. She was a Creole, the daughter of a 
steamboat engineer. She was poor in this world’s 
goods, possessing only a lovely face and beautiful 
form, with those womanly accortiplishments so well 
befitting a lady of such phenominal beauty. Speak- 
ing of beauty — I suppose you are fond of beautiful 
women?” 

Sidney answered in the affirmative. 

“Logan’s daughter, Cordelia, is about your own 
age, and certainly the prettiest girl I ever saw. I 
am not gasing. You will meet her yourself one of 
these days, and you will bear me out in all that I 
have said, but you will have to make fair weather 
with Logan, else you will not be permitted to speak 
to her, nor even look at her. Logan is trying to 
make a great man of John ; he would make a queen 
of Cordelia — or Delia, as we call her. She would 
certainly make as good a queen as ever wore a crown 
or wielded a scepter. I did intend to speak to you 
of your father, but must defer the conversation until 
another and more convenient season. We were 


THE BATTLE OE LIFE. 


179 


warm friends during the period of his captaincy. I 
was his pilot on the Crescent City, and a kinder- 
hearted, better man never lived than Captain Amos 
Walton. He did me many favors in those days and 
I am truly glad that it is now in my power to be- 
friend his son, especially one — no flattery, my boy — 
so every way worthy of my kindness. No matter 
what Logan may think of you, Walton, I like you, 
and I mean to show my appreciation in the most 
substantial manner possible. Good-night ! ” 


Sidney Walton lay awake for many hours thinking 
of the many strange events that formed the warp 
and woof of his young, eventful life. This last inter- 
view with Captain Lewis had turned the drift of 
thought into a different channel. He had never be- 
fore felt the least interest in one of the opposite sex, 
but the story of Delia Logan had awakened in his 
heart a sensation new to him ; a passion near akin to 
love. He did not doubt the captain’s story. She 
was doubtles very beautiful ; but there was another 
consideration, more in her favor, perhaps, than all 
others: she was the sister of his bosom friend, John 
Logan. He could love her for his sake, independ- 
ent of her beauty, independent of her mapy excel- 
lent qualities of head and heart, for this first dream 
of true love was a strange mixture of friendship, 
kindness and duty; a passion by no means thor- 
oughly defined or positive ; a love as transient, 
perhaps, as a summer’s dream. Our hero is no 
longer the bashful, diffident boy of a few years ago. 
The rapid changes going on around him, both in 
scenery and faces, have worked many important 


i8o 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


changes both in thought and sentiment. He now 
realizes that he is no longer a boy, but a man, and 
with this realization comes the resolution to act the 
part of a man — bravely, earnestly, truly. The transi- 
tion may seem sudden, but there are many influences 
in life that change the whole tenor of our being as 
quickly, almost, as the magician changes the cards 
from one receptical to another. The panorama of 
this personal struggle presents all the lights and 
shadows incident to an earnest, active life ; and we 
next behold, as Time rings up the curtain, a fair, 
girlish face, lovely as an angel’s dream, and in the 
back-ground — in the shadows, where doubt ever 
lingers — the form of a boy — a manly, dignified, hand- 
some youth — a man in all that constitutes the sterling 
attributes of manhood — a boy only in years. 

When the steamer had reached Memphis, and was 
discharging her cargo, Sidney saw an old man, 
accompanied by two ladies, walk slowly over the 
plank. The man seemed very feeble, and tottered 
at every step. Sidney, so painfully used to the sight 
of drunken people, recognized in the old man a hope- 
less slave to the bottle. He was well-dressed, how- 
ever, and his companions were evidently ladies of the 
better class. 

Logan met the party as they entered the boat; 
kissed felie ladies and spoke kindly to the old man. 
The elder lady was Logan’s wife, the younger his 
daughter. The old man, Piere Davqst, was Mrs. 
Logan’s father. 

Here was another chapter in the sad life of Philip 
Logan; another explanation of that habitual melan- 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


i8i 


choly which so impressed Sidney Walton at their 
first interview. The~ chief clerk had never mention- 
ed any of his family, except John, in all his talks with 
Sidney, notwithstanding he had of late been quite 
friendly and communicative. Sidney’s kindness and 
close attention to duty had softened the cold, stub- 
born heart of Logan not a little, and ‘had won from 
him the kindest treatment in return. As Captain 
Lewis ha'd previously remarked, there was no ac- 
counting for the strange moods of this sad, silent, 
gloomy man. 

Logan shook hands with the old man and called 
him father, and Mrs. Logan and Delia seemed very 
fond of him, notwithstanding his dissipation, which 
made him a burden to them all. 

I am tired, Philip,” said the old man, in a tremu- 
lous tone of voice. “ I want to lie down. I am suf- 
fering a thousand torments ! ” 

Logan whispered in his wife’s ear, then calling to 
the cabin boy, sent him to the bar for a bottle of 
brandy. The old man was led to a cosy room that 
had been prepared for his accommodation, a bottle 
of brandy and a pitcher of water were placed by his 
side, and in less than an hour he was as happy as 
strong drink could make him. 

The room occupied by Piere Davost was quite 
near the sleeping apartment of Sidney Walton. The 
latter had retired early, but his mind was filled with 
the stirring events of the day, hence he did not fall 
asleep at the usual hour. He lay awake thinking of 
many things, but most of all of a pretty face, the 
crowning charm of which was a pair of large dark 
eyes, with a glorious wreath of dark curls to match. 


i 82 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE, 


Those wonderful eyes had looked full into his own 
— once, only once — but there was something' in that 
look which deprived him of all desire to sleep. 
While wholly absorbed in blissful contemplation of 
the thought that he would one day woo and win the 
heart and hand of this beautiful maiden, he was sud- 
denly aroused by a moaning noise in the room of 
Davost, followed directly by a dull, heavy sound 
like the falling of a limp, lifeless body to the floor. 
Dressing himself as quickly as possible, Sidney hur- 
ried to the old man’s room. He knocked at the 
door, but receiving no answer, he noiselessly entered. 
On the floor lay Piere Davost, writhing in the agonies 
of a terrible fit. He lifted the helpless man into the 
bed and bathed his face with water. After chafing 
his face and hands for a few minutes, the old man 
revived. 

“ Is that you, Philip ? ” said he, staring vaguely 
into Walton’s face. 

“No, but I will wake the porter and send him for 
your son. Calm yourself, sir, and rest as easily as 
you can ; I will see that you are well cared for.’’ 

“Thank you, my son ! thank you!” and the old 
man again relapsed into a deathly stupor. 

Mrs. Logan was eager to know who the young 
man was -who came to the relief of her father, and 
when she learned the name, expressed a desire to 
see the young man and thank him in person for his 
kind services. Logan demurred, but neither Mrs. 
Logan nor Delia would be denied. 

Logan entered the office and said, rather gruffly: 

“ Come with me, Walton, my wife and daughter 
wish to speak with you, and my father-in-law desires 
to see you, also,” 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE, 


83 


Sidney was ushered into the state room occupied 
by Mistress and Miss Logan, both of whom received 
him very graciously. They were profuse of thanks 
for his kind services the night before. There was 
nothing hypocritical or patronizing in their manner. 
It was certainly the happiest moment of the young 
man’s life. Every barrier between him and perfect 
happiness seemed now obliterated. He had accom- 
plished by one small act of kindness that which had 
given him days and nights of anxious care. The 
road to victory was now before him; he had only to 
march therein. How little the young and inexperi- 
enced know of the snares and pitfalls that lie at 
every step along the devious journey that begins 
with the cradle and ends with the grave 1 but Hope, 
like an angel of mercy, journeys with us all, and 
though powerless to protect is ever ready to console 
and comfort the disappointed, foot-sore and weary 
pilgrim. 


CHAPTER XXX. 

BEAUTY. ^ 

“ What’s female beauty but an air divine 
Through which the mind’s all gentle graces shine ? 

They, like the sun, irradiate all between ; 

The body charms, because the soul is seen.” 

W HEN the steamer came in sight of Duvall 
Glen, a red flag was seen floating from a 
staff on the levee. The pilot’s eye took in 
the whole landscape at a glance. Some one wished 
to come aboard the steamer. Several turns of the 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


184 

wheel brought the Quitman slowly to shore. The 
passengers were 'waiting on the river bank. Mr. and 
Mrs. Early, their daughter, Miss Eva Duvall, and 
old Abner, the family servant, came on board the 
steamer. 

Captain Lewis and Logan were well acquainted 
with the party and received each with many mani- 
festations of pleasure. The. ladies kissed each other 
most lovingly, and seemed surprised but happy to 
meet again. Miss Logan and Eva Duvall were well 
known in New Orleans society. They were society 
belles, and had starred as such in the highest circles 
of that gay metropolis the year before. Each had 
made their debut in society about the same time, but 
were not rivals, on the contrary very dear friends. 

Young Walton, his heart all aglow with the new- 
born passion of love, could not imagine any one half 
so lovely as Delia Logan, yet the sight of Miss Du- 
vall spoiled in a measure this fond, selfish delusion. 
When Eva came aboard the Quitman, that bright, 
beautiful autumn day, another star was added, and 
there are yet others, enough indeed to form a con- 
stellation of beauties, at which his wondering eyes 
will yet gaze in the vain effort to decide which is the 
most beautiful. A new world had opened to his 
enraptured vision, a world of Southern beauties, as 
fair, as brilliant as that marvelous cross of stars that 
deck the Southern sky. 

As Miss Duvall stood that evening in the bright, 
mellow light of autumn, chatting merrily with her 
friend, as the two gazed out over the bright, cheer- 
ful landscape, checkered with beautiful hedges and 
flecked with a snowy sheen of ripening cotton, alter- 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 185 

nated by dark green fields of sugar cane and maize, 
Sidney thought he never beheld two such beautiful 
beings in all his life before. Everything seemed to 
be in perfect unison with the individual charms of 
each. It was just such an afternoon as set Tenny- 
son’s poem of the “ Lotus-Eaters ” singing and 
dreaming among one’s tho\jghts, with its slow, de- 
licious sweetness, until, it might be, away off in the 
dim horizon of one’s fancy there were glimmering 
phantoms of a strange, shining world, with a slum- 
berous roll of waves upon the sands of the “melan- 
choly, mild-eyed” faces that gathered around the 
keel of the mariners. Through the dim sunshine, 
there was the soft, low humming of insects, — and 
bright flashing of small wings — moths and butterflies 
— and now and then a whisper of winds, so hushed 
you might have thought it the far-off response of 
worshippers at prayer. Eva Duvall, as she turned to 
speak to Delia, her face beaming with enthusiasm 
and intelligence, seemed the fit product of such an 
afternoon — the perfect blossom of its warmth and 
glow and richness. She was young — scarce midway 
in her teens. Like Delia, she was a positive bru- 
nette ; dark in hair and eyes and complexion, with 
sparkle and gloss and glow. There was such a dainty 
finish about the girl. Nature had done her part well 
from the beginning, but such maidens as Eva Duvall 
are not formed by nature alone. Simple and unaf- 
fected as the girl was in herself, you knew, with the 
first glance, that culture and training had had a great 
deal to do with making her just the bewitching em- 
bodiment of youth and grace which she seemed to 
be, to at least one pair of eyes this evening. 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE, 


1 86 

She was saying to Delia Logan, in her low, earn- 
est way: “Who is that handsome young man, talk- 
ing to Captain Lewis ? ” 

“ Oh ! that’s Sidney Walton. He helps papa in 
the clerk’s office.” 

“ That’s a pretty name. Do you know the young 
man? Is he agreeable ? ” 

“ Yes, quite agreeable. We know* but little of 
his family, only his father used to be a captain on 
the river. Captain Lewis says he is well connected. 
He is quite intelligent and genteel in his manners. 
That’s all I know, Eva, dear, but if you want to know 
more you shall have an introduction. Mamma and 
1 like him very much. He has called on us several 
times. He is shy and bashful — ‘goosey,’ as I say of 
brother, who is about as old and just as awkward — 
but somehow I like him all the better for that. T 
have been thrown so much in the society of brazen 
fops, mis-called ‘ ladies’ men,’ that I am completely 
disgusted with their impudence. It is real nice to 
meet with a handsome, intelligent young fellow now 
and then who has the courage to be natural ; one 
who does not simper, bow and smirk; who does not 
flatter you until you are sick and disgusted with 
such nonsense. I could as soon fall in love with an 
educated, well-dressed monkey as one of those 
society swells, and yet I have been doomed to such 
company half my time since I entered society.” 

Eva was a little surprised and amused at the turn 
the conversation had taken, and laughingly accused 
Delia of being in love with the young man, but the 
latter good-naturedly denied the soft impeachment. 

Eva thought a great deal of what she had heard 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE, 


187 

when the two separated for the evening. Delia was 
right — altogether right. She felt anxious to know 
more of the young man whose good sense and unos- 
tentatious manners had not only won the esteem of 
a society belle, but had set her to thinking, for the 
first time, perhaps, of the folly, deceit and empty 
nothingness of so-called “society” and its cherished 
idols. 


The remainder of the voyage from Duvall Glen to 
New Orleans was brief, but very pleasant to not a 
few of the passengers. To Sidney Walton, -who 
spent much of his leisure hours with Delia Logan and 
Eva Duvall, the time passed most pleasantly indeed. 
He found Miss Duvall one of the most charming 
ladies he had ever met. She was, he thought, hard- 
ly so pretty as Miss Logan, but her manner was 
more agreeable, being less reserved. 

Miss Logan was masquerading, just a little; she 
dreaded a scene with her father. She knew his 
temper and was not long finding out his opinion of 
Walton, which was anything but favorable. Miss 
Duvall, being under no restraint, entertained young 
Walton with less reserve of manner. She declared 
to Delia that she was highly pleased with their new 
acquaintance, and even expressed the wish that he 
might spend the winter in the city. It would be real 
fun to initiate him into society, and when once 
familiar with the ways of city life he would be quite 
an acquisition to their set, for he was already inter- 
esting, and that was more than could be said of the 
average young men of society. 

Miss Early, who labored under the impression, 


i88 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


hallucination, perhaps, that Eva was the. affianced 
lover of her brother Allan, was greatly shocked to 
see her “flirting” with Walton. Eva suspected as 
much and availed herself of the first opportunity to 
teach the Earlys that she esteemed herself free to 
bestow her attentions on whom she pleased. 

“ Who is this young upstart, of whom you speak ? ” 
asked Miss Early -with a sneer. 

“ Oh, he is a charming young fellow from Ohio. 
We have not looked up his pedigree; we do not 
know whether his ancestors came over with William 
the Conqueror or Captain Kidd. You know Delia 
and I are very fond of Yankees. We have been 
trying to get one on our string for a long time, and 
now that we have caught a real, live Yankee we 
think you ought to congratulate us.” 

“ With all my heart,” said Miss Early, with bitter 
emphasis. 

“ My dear,” said Miss Duvall, seeming not to 
notice the young lady’s anger, “ you should know 
more of our sweetheart before you speak ill of him. 
He is an excellent young fellow, and so very, very 
handsome. He may be the son of a tinker, for 
aught we know, but he is one of nature’s noblemen, 
*for a’ that,’ if I am any judge of human nature.” 

“ I do not doubt it. He is probably a genius. He 
would no doubt make a good sewing machine agent, 
or a lightning-rod peddler,” sneeringly retorted Miss 
Early. 

“ Or an admiral in Uncle Sam’s na-vee.” 

“ What do you mean, Eva Duvall?’* 

“ Just what I say, Emma Early ! ” 

“ I have heard enough of this ! ” said Miss Early, 


THE BATTLE OF LIEE, 189 

rising from her seat with anger and defiance in every 
word and gesture. 

** I am sorry, for I had not finished. I have a lit- 
tle more to say on this subject — ^jestingly, under- 
stand — I have only been jesting,” continued Miss 
Duvall, with more of bitterness than humor in her 
words, “ I was going to say, with Delia’s permission, 
for the young man belongs to her by right of discov- 
ery, that, perhaps, I might ennoble this clever, good- 
looking young ‘ mud-sill ’ — the epithet is not mine, 
but quoted — might make him lord of Duvall Glen. 
I am sure he would wear his honors gracefully, at 
least gratefully!' 


CHAPTER XXXI. 

DISAPPOINTMENT. 

f * 

** Oh, I am sick of this vain world P 

My heart, my best affections blighted, 

My sails of joy forever furled. 

My dawning hopes so soon benighted." 

O NE year has transpired since the close of the 
last chapter, a year fraught with many changes 
many fond hopes rudely blighted. Such is 
true of our hero, true of others whose lives are part 
and parcel of this narrative ; true at least in the 
sense of personal affliction, or what seems such to 
not a few. 

Sidney Walton, wavering between the kindness of 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


I9O 

Capt. Lewis and the maliee of Logan, has led a pre- 
carious life on board the Quitman, constrained to 
remain for the Captain’s sake, and yet impelled to 
abandon his situation on account of the petty perse- 
cutions of the chief clerk. He was such a prey to 
conflicting emotions that his life had become a bur- 
den. 

Logan was cross one day and kind the n^xt. At 
first Sidney was hopeful of winning favor with his 
superior, but several things conspired to blast all 
such fond, delusive hopes. Logan’s hatred of Capt. 
Walton, of which Sidney as yet knew nothing, was 
at first the leading cause of the clerk’s dislike, but 
other causes followed ; causes of which the young 
man was equally ignorant. Although he loved Miss 
Logan, indeed almost worshipped her, he had never 
as yet mad-e love to her or even thought of such a 
thing, at least not in his present condition. True, 
he had indulged the innocent hope that he might 
one day be worthy of declaring his passion, but until 
then he scorned to ask her love in return for his own, 
notwithstanding he loved her almost to the verge of 
idolatry. 

The shrewd eyes of Logan, perhaps the shrewder 
eyes of Mrs. Logan, had discovered that young Wal- 
ton not only loved Delia, but was loved in return. 
This was an offense, on the part of the young adven- 
turer, not to be forgiven. 

If Philip Logan needed other and more positive 
reasons for disliking his assistant, the ill-starred des- 
tiny of the latter soon furnished an additional pre- 
text. Walton had one day unfortunately remarked 
to his superior that his son was very much dissatisfied 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


I9t 

with old Cheatem, and the work he was required to 
do, and that John was determined not to be a lawyer 
if he could help it. 

“Yes,” added,- Logan with a sneer, “and you 
probably did all you could to add to his dissatisfac- 
tion. It is just like you — ^just like a runaway — to 
put mischief into the rattle-brained heads of others 
who are eager to do likewise ! ” 

Walton bit his lips in suppressed rage at this false 
accusation, but said nothing. Logan was eager for 
a quarrel, in which he had the advantage of authori- 
ty over his adversary. It was hard to remain silent 
when falsely accused, but contradiction would only 
add fuel to the flame, and yet the young man’s 
silence was taken as a tacit admission of guilt. Meek- 
ness is one of the cardinal virtues, yet often miscon- 
strued to the injury of the patient and forbearing. 

If Logan felt angry at Sidney when merely sus- 
pecting his complicity in young Logan’s plans for 
asserting that independence in life for which the 
young man was known to be eager and impatient, 
what must have been his feelings when he learned 
from Cheatem that John had actually fled from his 
paternal watchcare, and had gone out into the world 
to make hisifortune as an actor ? The fury of Logan 
knew no bounds. Had his son remained within his 
reach, he might have enforced his legal and paternal 
right of controlling and directing his course in life, 
at least until the young man was of age, but John 
had anticipated "as much ana had put the broad 
Atlantic between himself and angry father 

After this little episode in the affairs of Philip 
Logan, the situation of Walton became insufferable, 


THE BATTLE OE LIFE. 


192 

and he resolved to quit the service of Captain Lewis, 
much as he loved the genial commander of the Quit- 
man. Logan did not know or even suspect that he 
was indebted to the magnanimity of young Walton 
for his situation ; did not know that he was wholly 
in the power, of the young man whose life he had 
made as wretched as he knew how. Captain Lewis 
liked young Walton very much ; he did not like 
Logan at all. Had Walton complained of his supe- 
rior, had he even hinted the real cause that actuated 
him in leaving the Quitman, Captain Lewis would 
have discharged Logan without ceremony and given 
his place to Walton, who was now as capable of dis- 
charging the duties of the office as Logan, but the 
young man’s integrity was proof against the tempta- 
tion; his sterling honor is as conspicuously apparent 
in this transaction as the evil nature of the chief clerk. 
The two are as little alike as black and white, as 
light and darkness — let the reader judge Letween 
them. 

When Walton left the Quitman, the Captain as- 
sured him that there should be a perpetual vacancy 
for his benefit. “ Come to me, Sidney,” said the 
warm-hearted, generous old man, “whenever you 
want work. Don’t allow yourself the least annoy- 
ance or trouble ; don’t wait until poverty drives you, 
but come as soon as you feel that you need my help. 

I will find a place for you. The girls are going to 
spend the winter in the city, so I have been told,” 
continued Captain Lewis, with an arch look at 
Sidney. 

“Yes.” 

“ Logan must not know anything relative to your 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


193 


movements,” said the Captain, thoughtfully. “ He 
would take his family back to Memphis if he sus- 
pected that you would remain in the city.” 

“ Well, what has that to do with me or my plans, 
Captain,” said young Walton, somewhat annoyed by 
the remark. 

Oh, nothing at all, unless you are in love with 
Delia. If I am not mistaken you told me as much, 
and expressed no little concern on the subject. If 
you love the heiress, however, I know of none to 
molest or make you afraid. You have my best 
wishes ; go forward ; marry her if you can. She is 
worth a cool half-million ; but mark my words, Sid- 
ney Walton, I had rather marry the beautiful Creole 
without a penny.” 

“ Captain Lewis, who am I ? what am I ? that I 
should aspire to the hand of either of those ladies ? 
Without money, almost without friends; with hard- 
ly the means of making a respectable appearance in 
society ; brought up and educated in a different 
circle altogether, and among people altogether unlike 
the people of the South. I must appear strange to 
them ; I fear ridiculous. I have studied the matter 
over carefully and have at last come to the conclu- 
sion that it is the novelty of my manner and style 
that excites their interest. They make over me 
pretty much as they would over a strange pet, but 
the novelty will wear off and the only charm I pos- 
sess, to them, will then have vanished.” 

Walton felt a little vexed that Captain Lewis 
should meddle in his affairs, and did not altogether 
refrain from showing his vexation, but when the 
good man thrust a roll of bank notes in his hand and 
12 


194 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE, 


said : Only a loan, my boy. I would not dare to of- 
fer you assistance on any other terms,” he naturally 
softened in his manner toward his aged benefactor. 
Sidney protested, but to no purpose. The Captain 
waved him aside with the back of his hand, saying : 

You cannot earn enough at your trade to keep 
you up in good society. You shall have all the 
money you need. I know a thing or two. I know 
Eva Duvall and Delia Logan are both very fond of 
you. Take your choice. You see I am a great 
gossip. I know the secrets of all my patrons.- These 
people travel on my boat, going and coming. I 
have been joking the girls about you. Eva Duvall 
likes your company, but Delia Logan loves you for 
your own sake.” 


Walton returned to his room vexed and mortified 
at the turn affairs had taken at the telegraph office. 
He had been at work there for several months and 
had given satisfaction to all concerned in the man- 
agement of the business and had made many friends 
for himself among the employes of the office ; but 
there was a Philip Logan here as elsewhere, only this 
new enemy hated without the least cause or provo- 
cation. This vindictive malice against one who had 
never injured him by word or deed, showed David 
Humphrey in the light of a bully and a ruffian ; one 
utterly destitute of honor and manhood. True, this 
man was hated by nearly all the employes of the 
office, but this did not lessen the sting of his rough, 
insulting jokes, hurled at Walton many times during 
the day. To make matters worse, the boys always 
told' Sidney all that he failed to hear for himself. 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE, 


195 


Humphrey had at last gone so far as to denounce 
his adversary as “ a Yankee upstart, and a coward.” 
Walton was fiercely indignant at this' and had about 
made up his mind to call Humphrey to a strict ac- 
countability for hisf abuse. In this unpleasant train 
of mind, he entered his room, where he found a 
package of letters lying on the center table. He had 
not heard from home for many months. He seized 
the letters in anxious haste, forgetting, in his anxiety, 
all .about the recent trouble at the office. 

The first letter he opened was from his mother. 
Here was news indeed ! The signature was enough 
had he not read a line of its contents. She had sign- 
ed herself Mrs. Preston. The letter fell from his 
nerveless hands ! He rose from his seat and paced 
the room 1 He was overwhelmed with rage and in- 
dignation. Had his mother dragged the shame of a 
drunken husband through the courts in order to pro- 
cure a divorce ? The thought was horrible, madden- 
ing 1 Had she thought him of so little worth as to 
marry without consulting his wishes? He felt that 
he had been outraged and humiliated. He severely 
blamed his mother — something he had never done 
before. His warm, ardent affection for Dr. Preston 
almost turned to hate. In the bitterness of his heart 
he said : “ I will never see her face, nor his, again ! ” 
When the storm of passion had somewhat subsided, 
he remembered there were other letters he had not 
read. He seized another and broke the seal with 
nervous haste. It was from Dr. Preston, and com- 
menced with the words : “My Dear Son,” and end- 
ed with the endearing superscription : “ Your Affec- 
tionate Father.” He threw the letter to the floor, 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


196 

and in a fit of intense anger that might have done 
credit to his passionate sire, stamped it under his 
feet. A printed slip fell from the folds of the 
trampled letter. He stooped and picked it up, but 
in the blindness of his rage he could not distinguish 
one letter from another. When sufficiently calm, 
however, he approached the light and read the con- 
tents of that printed slip, already familiar to the 
reader. It almost froze the blood in his veins. He 
had little cause indeed to love and respect his father. 
Most young men, similarly situated, would not have 
cared for him, living or dead, but Sidney Walton was 
of finer mold and better stuff than the average young 
men of his day. Though daring and impulsive, he 
was as gentle and loving in hi^ nature as a woman. 
Naturally forgiving towards all men, he was infinite- 
ly more so towards his unfortunate, misguided father. 
He had loved him in happy childhood days with all 
the ardor of his pure, loving heart, and now, upon 
the very threshold of manhood, and after all he had 
suffered, he still loved the author of his being; the 
love of childhood and boyhood was now blended 
into a stronger, firmer love. This heartfelt affection, 
beginning with the very dawn of reason, had stood 
every test ; it was now, strange as it may seem, the 
ruling passion of his nature. In the full light of this 
strange and painful revelation, he did not reflect a 
moity of his displeasure on Dr. Preston. He only 
blamed his mother. He could hardly realize, in the 
bitterness of his sorrow, how she could so soon forget 
his father’s death ; how she could think of marrying 
again, and so soon, so very soon. 

There was a letter in the package from his little 


THE BATTLE OF LITE, 


197 


brother, Artie, who sent his picture, and desired 
Sidney’s in return. It was full of childish prattle 
and was evidently written by the boy himself. It 
contained much to reconcile the elder brother to 
their mother’s marriage. The little fellow had a 
great deal to say about his “ dear papa.” The doc- 
tor had evidently been very good to him, for children 
seldom praise those they do not like. 


CHAPTER XXXII. 


TRUE COURAGE. 

“ I dare do all that may become a man ; who dares do more is none.” 

/ I \ HE visits of Eva Duvall were hailed with de- 

I light by the family of William Temple, of 
New Orleans, consisting of himself, his wife 
and adopted daughter, Minnie, who had been brought 
up in the pleasant delusion that she was, indeed, the 
child of her foster-parents. 

Mr. Temple was a retired merchant, having grown 
speedily rich in the cotton trade, at a time when for- 
tunes were quickly made or lost by speculating in 
that important and valuable staple. 

He was a Northern man, a distant relative of Mrs. 
Duvall, and had been attracted to New Orleans, 
years before, by the flattering letters written North 
by the mistress of Duvall Glen, after her marriage 
and settlement in Louisiana. He always said he 
owed his success in life to his cousin Emily, conse- 


THE TATTLE OE LIEE. 


198 

quently he felt more than a cousinly interest in Mrs. 
Duvall, and petted and humored Eva as though she 
were his own child. 

Mrs. Temple was a Southern woman by birth and 
education, but there was no conflict of opinions nor 
want of sympathy, love and confidence between 
those well-to-do and happy people. 

For several years Eva had spent her winters under 
their hospitable roof, and they had taken no little 
pains to make her visits as pleasant as possible. 

The old people mingled but little in society, but 
they kept open house for their daughter’s sake, and 
Eva’s visits were always honored by a grand ball, 
followed by quiet social parties, given as often as 
Eva and Minnie wished ; indeed there was nothing 
omitted which could at all add to their happiness. 

Minnie was very fond of Eva, and the two were 
together a great deal, either in the city or at Duvall 
Glen, and Delia Logan often added her bright, genial 
presence, making the visits all the more pleasant. 

Walton wished above all things to visit Miss Lo- 
gan, and yet he doubted the propriety of doing so. 
Though he had of late mingled quite freely in so- 
ciety, he had not had the pleasure of meeting Delia 
for many months. He had met Miss Duvall fre- 
quently, and was indebted to the heiress of Duvall 
for many social courtesies which none but a stranger 
in a strange city can properly appreciate. It was 
through the kindness of Eva that he became ac- 
quainted with the Temples, whose social position 
was equal to the best. To have the entree of Tem- 
ple Mansion was a privilege hardly to have been 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE, 


199 


expected by one occupying such an humble position 
in life, but Mr. Temple and his excellent lady had 
asked no questions. To know that Sidney Walton 
was the friend of Eva Duvall was quite enough. 
Though cordially invited to call on Eva at the home 
of her kinsman, it was several weeks before the 
young man found courage to do so, ajid when he 
did cross the threshold of Temple Mansion it was 
with a feeling almost akin to desperation. Those 
disagreeable forebodings were soon dissipated. His 
reception was as cordial as heart could wish. The 
members of this well-regulated household vied with 
each other in their efforts to enhance thd pleasure 
of his visit. If at all deficient in social culture, 
no one noticed it. He was made to feel perfectly 
free and easy. It was like visiting old, familiar 
friends. He had not been in their presence ten 
minutes until he felt as much at home as if he had 
known them for years. What a contrast between 
the Temples and the Logans; between true gentility 
and its counterfeit^ Of course Delia was not in- 
cluded in 'Such comparisons, but the memory of this 
visit, and a subsequent one to the Logans, made him 
respect the Temples even above their worth. 

Nothing but an earnest desire to see Delia Logan, 
whom he had failed to meet in society, impelled him 
to visit her in her own home, for before calling he 
had every reason to doubt the hospitality of Mrs. 
Logan. 

To his surprise, for Captain Lewis had told him of 
their poverty, he found the Logans living in a fine 
mansion, surrounded by almost every luxury that 
heart could wish. The house was situated far away 


200 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


from the din and bustle of the great city. It was 
neat, comfortable and home-like; just the bower, 
Sidney thought, for such a fairy queen as Miss Logan. 

He did not know how very poor they really were ; 
that the mansion, even the furniture, was rented. 

Mrs. Logan was very ambitious. Like her hus- 
band, she had set her heart on making her children 
rich and great. When their son disappointed all 
their bright hopes of future greatness by running 
away, the ambition of this proud, haughty woman 
centered on Delia. 

She had never dreamed of Walton as a suitable 
match foL her daughter, hence she was surprised at 
his visit, and treated him very coolly. Delia was 
polite and pleasant, but very reserved and cautious 
in her manner, for she felt that her mother’s eyes 
were fixed upon her. 

It was an awkward predicament for the young 
man, and he felt it most keenly. He had not been 
under their roof two minutes until he heartily regret- 
ted having called on the young lady at all, and men- 
tally resolved that he would not again expose him- 
self to the contumely of Mrs. Logan and the seeming 
indifference of Delia, who had'concealed her feelings 
but too well. He had no sooner left, however, than 
she repaired to her own room, bolted the doors, and 
indulged in that greatest of all luxuries to the 
troubled heart of woman, an unrestrained fit of cry- 
ing all to herself. To make matters worse, Mrs. 
Logan said when they met again, several hours after 
Walton had taken his leave : 

Delia, my dear, can you imagine what brought 
that fellow here ? ” 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


201 


The young lady answered, reluctantly, that per- 
it was because he felt lonely, b^ing a stranger 
in the city. 

“ Well, I hope your theory is correct, my dear. I 
trust we are happily rid of him forever.” 

The Sunday following his first visit to Temple 
Mansion, Walton drove Eva and her cousin to church. 
As they were about entering the carriage to return 
home, Sidney observed several low roughs, Hum- 
phrey among the number, standing near by. The 
latter remarked to one of his boon companions, and 
quite loud enough to be distinctly heard by all the 
party : 

“ Bill, do you see that fellow there ” pointing his 
finger at Walton. “ He’s a Yankee telegraph oper- 
ator. He works in our office at twelve dollars a 
week. His father peddles pop-corn and peanuts for 
a living. Don’t see how he can afford so much 
style, do you ? ” 

The crowd turned their heads and gazed at young 
Walton ; the young ladies blushed and looked con- 
fused. As to Walton himself, he turned pale and 
fairly trembled with rage. His first impulse was to 
get out of the carriage and horse-whip Humphrey 
then and there, but his good sense and firmness 
prevailed. He drove off and left the ruffians laugh- 
ing inordinately at what they considered an excellent 
joke. The young ladies were very much confused 
by the insult, and both noticed its effect on Walton. 
Scarcely a word was spoken during the drive home. 
The silence was painful. Eva made several attempts 
to divert the thoughts of her companions from the 


202 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


brutal insult, but in vain, and it was a relief to each 
and all when they separated for the day, the young 
ladies to forget the circumstance, for the time, while 
Walton planned how best to punish Humphrey for 
the insult. 

Both were stopping at the same boarding house. 
Walton procured a heavy box-wood cane, and car- 
ried it to his room. Humphrey did not know the 
number of Walton’s room, hence he never dreamed 
the purport of a small note which was handed him 
by a servant next morning. It read as follows : 

Mk. David Humphrey: 

Sir: — C all at •room No. 8. A man is waiting there to see you. 

Humphrey frequently had dealings with men of 
doubtful character, and he supposed this note, as it 
was not signed, was from some friend of his with an 
aliaSy hence he responded with alacrity. 

When he opened the door he was confronted by 
Sidney Walton, who was waiting for him, cane in 
hand. 

*‘You infamous scoundrel!” said he, “why did 
you insult me yesterday?” and, without waiting a 
reply, rained a shower of terrific blows upon the 
bully’s head which sent him reeling into the hall and 
out into the street, crying “murder! murder! police! 
police ! ” 

A policeman quickly responded to the cry and 
arrested Walton, who, pale and trembling with ex- 
citement and rage, admitted that he had assaulted 
Humphrey; that he had beaten him severely. Sid- 
ney was taken before the recorder, pled guilty and 
paid his fine, reaching the telegraph office in time to 
begin his day’s work; but Humphrey sent a note to 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE, 


203 

the superintendent informing him that he was unwell 
and could not work that day. 

Walton said nothing to any one about it, but the 
daily papers did. The Times reporter had inter- 
viewed him while at the recorder’s office, and pub- 
lished next day a long article, giving all the particu- 
lars. It created quite a stir in the telegraph office. 
The employes were delighted to hear that Humphrey 
had received a threshing, and Walton at once be- 
came a hero among his fellow workmen. The super- 
intendent investigated the matter, and discovering 
the true cause of the difficulty, discharged Humphrey 
without a moment’s warning. 

When Walton called on the superintendent for his 
week’s pay, the latter said : 

“ I have just learned of your difficulty with Hum- 
phrey. You did exactly right in caning the rascal. 
I have discharged the ruffian from the office. No 
man shall work for me after insulting a lady, or a 
gentleman while in the company of a lady. By the 
way, here is a letter that a darkey handed me yes- 
terday for you.” 

Thanking the superintendent for his kindness,' 
Walton withdrew, wondering what the letter con- 
tained. Reaching the street, he tore open the en- 
velope and read : 

“ Call on Solomon Bridges, jeweler, corner of Cy- 
press and Orange and present this card.” 

The card was numbered on one side and bore the 
name of Bridges on the other. 

When he presented the card, the jeweler went to 
a show case and took ther^efrom a beautiful gold- 
headed cane, which he handed to Walton with the 
single remark, a present, sir.” 


204 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE, 


It bore the following inscription : “ Presented to 
Mr. Sidney Walton, as a token of respect, by an ad- 
mirer of true courage.” 


CHAPTER XXXIII. 

A FATAL SECRET POORLY KEPT. 

“ A secret in his mouth is like a wUd bird put into a cage, whose 
door no sooner opens, but ’tis out.” 

J OHN LOGAN, contrary to the prediction of his 
father, had already reached distinction as an 
actor. 

He was now regarded at the Royal Athenseum, 
London, as the finest comedih-n of his age. Though 
scarcely a man in years, he had already attained to 
the leading part in a number of the most popular 
comedies of the day. He had at l-ast ventured so 
far as to assume the role of Sir Toby, in “Twelfth 
Night, or What You Will.” His engagement, for 
many nights in succession had drawn large crowds 
to the Athenaeum, causing the actor much labor, 
worry and excitement. He was in no very comfort- 
able mood when a servant at the hotel announced the 
visit of “ a distinguished American.” The actor 
languidly inquired for the gentleman’s card. 

“ He presented no card, sir,” said the servant. 
“Tell the fellow to sent up his name. I am not 
receiving visitors to-day ; perhaps I may not wish 
to see the distinguished gentleman of whom you 
speak.’^ 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


205 


In a moment the servant returned with a slip of 
paper, on which was written: *‘Achmet Tomlona, 
Thebes, Upper Egypt.” 

“ That looks devilish little like an American 
name,” said Logan, “ and Upper Egypt is not one 
of the States of the American Union, but show him 
up. I am anxious to see an AmericaJt front Egypt!' 

The stranger was dressed partly in the garb of an 
Englishman, partly in the costume of the Orient. 
He was dark-skinned, but not naturally so. His ap- 
pearance indicated exposure to the hot, dry winds 
that sweep over the Nile from the great interior des- 
erts of Africa. He sported a small dress-sword of 
costly design, such as only the officers of the Otto- 
man Empire are permitted to wear. He had a cold, 
synical look that indicated, shrewdness, perhaps- cul- 
ture, but a judge of human nature would at a glance 
have pronounced him destitute of all those nicer feel- 
ings of the heart by which we distinguish the gener- 
ous and good from the selfish and mean ; and there 
was a cunning expression about the eye that would 
have warned an intelligent stranger not to trust him. 

“ My name is Tomlin,” said he, “and not ‘ Tom^ 
Iona,’ as you see written on the card I sent up. I 
was born and raised in New York, but have been 
absent from my native country for many years. I 
was for several years a civil engineer in the service 
of the Italian government. The people of that 
country never learned to speak my name correctly. 
At first it was ' Tomloni ; ’ afterwards it was softened 
into something like ‘Tomlona,’ and as they persisted 
in calling me thus, I assumed the name, adding 
Achmet, after entering the service of the Egyptian- 


206 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE, 


government. I took an interest in you/’ continued 
Tomlin, ‘^from the moment I first saw you in the 
role of Sir Toby, and when I learned that you were 
from America, I resolved to visit you at my earliest 
convenience.” 

I thank you for the visit,” said the actor, some- 
what interested in his strange visitor. 

“ I am the son of a poor mechanic,” continued 
Tomlin, in a tone and manner which indicated that 
he had come for a long talk, “ who spent all his liv- 
ing in trying to give me a thorough education, but 
the poor man died ere he had the satisfaction of see- 
ing his only son the graduate of one of the best 
colleges of the country. I had treated my father 
very badly, while absent, refusing to answer his let- 
ters when I learned that I had received every dollar 
of money the old man could raise for my benefit. 
The old simpleton spelt so badly. You see this 
want of education on the part of my excellent father 
had caused me the deepest humiliation. I lost one 
of his letters and it was found by a fellow-student. 
It commenced : “ m-i d-e-e-r s-u-n.” It was months 
before I heard the last of that letter. Well, my 
father had mortgaged his little home for my benefit, 
and when the loan came due he could not redeem 
the property. Being too old to work, he was sent 
to the poor house where he died of a broken heart. 
Unfortunately the old man had complained of the 
ingratitude of his son to the neighbors, and when I 
returned from college I was hooted out of the village. 
I was out of money and could get no work to do, for 
I was hated by rich and poor. This set me to study- 
ing how to ‘raise the wind.’ While at college I had 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


207 

witnessed the killing of a young Southern aristocrat 
— one Prentiss Duvall — ” 

Duvall ! ” echoed the actor. “ Where did he 
live ? ” 

** He was a native of Louisiana, I believe. His 
father was said to be worth a million.” 

“ You knew the murderer? ” 

^‘Certainly. His name is, or was, Amos Walton. 
He is dead now — was killed at Pittsburg a few years 
ago. He is supposed to have been murdered by 
robbers, who relieved him of several thousand dol- 
lars; but the money was not Walton’s, however. It 
belonged to the company for whom he was doings 
business. You seem interested in the matter; per- 
haps you knew the parties ? ” • 

No, no ; I am only interested as an American 
should be in everything American. Please pro- 
ceed.” 

This Amos Walton was sole heir to a large for- 
tune in Ohio. I had kept trace of him pretty closely. 
Soon after I left school Walton came in possession 
of his estate. He was now immensely rich, while I 
was very poor. I made him divide. I lived like a 
fighting cock at this man’s expense. But there came 
an end to this at last, through Walton’s recklessness 
and dissipation, followed in the end by his death at 
the hands of assassins. A dead man is worth noth- 
ing to any one. I had now to cast about for the 
means of earning an honest living. I saw an adver- 
tisement for a number of American engineers to work 
on public works in Italy. I answered this advertise- 
ment and was accepted. Having completed the 
tunnel upon which I was engaged, I went over to 


208 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


Egypt, where I secured employment in constructing 
a ship canal around the falls of.the river Nile. I am 
now here in the interest of this canal, for the purpose 
of securing skilled labor and machinery to complete 
the work. You may think me a cold, selfish, hard- 
hearted fellow, but my narrative has the virtue of 
being strictly true. It is of little consequence what 
Americans think of me now, as I have long since 
ceased to belong to that nationality. By the way, I 
almost forgot to tell you that I was arrested over 
this Walton-Duvall homicide. The detectives doubt- 
less thought me silly enough to tell ail I knew about 
it. I taught them a lesson, however, for which they 
cheerfully paid me three hundred dollars in the way 
of compromising the serious results of their own 
blunders. A red-headed Irishman caught a tartar — 
I was the tartar, and a lively one, too, as he soon 
learned to his sorrow.” 

Logan knew that he was in the presence of a 
brazen-faced scoundrel — one who gloried in his 
meanness — but he was interested, almost fascinated, 
with the cool, unreserved, reckless abandon of this 
educated villain. They parted in the best of 
humor. Tomlin promised to call again before he 
departed for the land of mummies and pyramids. 

Logan meditated long and earnestly over the 
strange story which the engineer had just related. 
This was a secret that must never be told. His 
bosom friend, Sidney Walton, should never know 
that his father was a murderer ; but he thought to 
himself, what an interesting item of news this would 
be if told to Delia. He knew that his sister and Eva 
Duvall were most intimate friends. He would write 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE, 


209 


to his sister and tell her all about it. Delia, if 
properly cautioned, would never reveal the fatal se- 
cret to a living soul. She was now the only member 
of the family to whom he dared to write. His father 
and mother had never forgiven him for running away 
from old Cheatem. Logan spent several hours writ- 
ing to his sister. That part of his letter which re- 
ferred to the Walton-Duvall murder was written on 
a separate sheet of paper, that she might the better 
conceal it from all human eyes. He cautioned her 
over and over again never to hint it to a living soul, 
and explained his reasons at great length — spoke of 
the warm, sincere attachment existing between him- 
self and young Walton. He little thought that his 
sister had a stronger motive even than his own for 
keeping this terrible secret, and yet it would have 
been better, for all concerned, had Logan and Tom- 
lin remained strangers forever, for with all his excel- 
lent qualities of head and heart, the actor had never 
yet been able to keep but one secret — the mysterious 
origin of his own name. 


CHAPTER XXXIV. 

MOTHER AND DAUGHTER. 

V 

“ I am not Argus-eyed, nor omnipresent, yet I have seen enough : 
I know the secret of your heart, despite of all dissembling.” 


U 


jELIA, my dear, do you know the tall, hand- 
I / some, young man who personated Sir Philip 
Sidney in the masquerade last night?” 
“Why, mamma, you surprise me! You surely 

13 


210 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


know the gentleman’s name without asking ; I am 
sure you do !” 

I am not trifling, Delia, I assure you. The young 
man has a fine form, and appears to be very graceful 
in his manners. I am anxious to know his name, in- 
asmuch as he seems to have been made much of by 
quite a number of distinguished people. Miss Du- 
vall seemed to care for no one else. In the tableau 
in which she personated Venus and he Apollo, I am 
sure I never in all my life witnessed anything so 
strikingly beautiful. The other figures did not 
amount to much. Miss Temple, as Minerva, and 
yourself, as Diana, were pretty enough, to be sure, 
but I was really mortified that your beauty should 
have been so completely eclipsed ; that Eva should 
have been chosen queen of grace and beauty.” 

Oh, mamma, we cannot all stand first on the 
muster roll of beauty. I am sure I do not feel the 
least jealous ; on the contrary, Eva’s triumph affords 
me real pleasure. I am glad the honors have fallen 
to her, for she loves me very dearly.” 

But you have not told me the gentleman’s 
name,” repeated Mrs. Logan, eyeing her daughter 
closely. 

** I would have you guess, mamma,” said Delia, 
eyeing her mother with a look as intent and earnest 
as her own. 

Mrs. Logan knew the young man’s name very well. 
She was only trying to get at the bottom of Delia’s 
heart, but the young lady was likely to prove more 
than a match for her shrewd, worldly-minded, 
society-loving mamma. She knew how bitter her 
mother had been towards Sidney Walton when he 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE, 


21 1 


was an insignficant stranger in the city, and was sur- 
prised to hear such flattering encomiums pronounced 
in his favor, yet she did not betray a particle of 
feeling. “ 

Mrs. Logan, like a good general, changed front. 
She said : “ I am sure I cannot guess the gentleman’s 
name, and I will not try! I have asked you the last 
time, Delia ; I command you to answer my ques- 
tion.” 

Sidney Walton,” said Delia, as mildly and sweetly 
as if she had not noticed her mother’s anger. 

Sidney Walton ! Sidney Walton ! Oh yes ! the 
fellow who had the impudence to call after a casual 
steamboat introduction ! I remember. I shall never 
forget how green and awkward he was ; how he spun 
his hat around on his fore-finger like it had been his 
mother’s spinning-wheel,” a;nd Mrs. Logan laughed 
one of her cold, bitter laughs, still eyeing her 
daughter closely ; but it was like looking down into 
a deep well of a dark night. Delia appeared utterly 
indifferent to all that was said. Mrs. Logan had 
taken an untenable position, by first complimenting 
Walton’s manners and then ridiculing his awkward- 
ness. It was an ingenious ruse of hers^ however, to 
draw Delia into an argument, but failed utterly. 

Delia felt that she was completely alone in the 
world. There was nothing in common between her 
and her mother. Such conversations as the above 
were of daily occurrence and she had grown so weary 
of society and society talk that her life had almost 
become a burden. She often felt that it would be a 
great relief if she could tell all that was in her 
troubled heart to some kind, sympathetic friend, but 


212 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE, 


who, among all that loved her, was qualified to share' 
the secret of her troubled heart. She dared not tell 
Eva Duvall,' for Eva had already confessed that she 
loved Walton with alllier heart. 


Sidney Walton had noticed a strange man who 
seemed to watch his movements most intently, but 
for what purpose he could not tell. He had ob- 
served him for the first time the day after his en- 
counter with Humphrey, and but for the fact that he 
appeared dignified and manly in his bearing, might 
naturally have associated the mysterious stranger 
with that difficulty, still fresh in the minds of not a 
few. Humphrey was known to affiliate with 
some of the worst people in the city, but Sidney 
could not think tiiat a man of such genteel appear- 
ance could possibly be' associated with an individual 
so vile as David Humphrey was known to be. But 
this thought, while in a measure relieving the young 
man’s mind of the thought of a cowardly personal 
assault, was by no means satisfactory. The anxiety 
of young Walton to, know the truth had almost 
prompted him to have the stranger arrested, for he 
had actually dogged his footsteps even to the door 
of his boardinghouse. The strange man was tall of 
stature and appeared to be about forty-five years of 
age. He was dressed in the habit of a seaman. His 
hair and beard were of unusual length and of a yel- 
lowish color. 

The strange individual is no other than Capt. 
Amos Walton, now known to the world as Capt. 
Hamilton. After a changeful, precarious life, spent 
mostly in the coasting trade between Baltimore and 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE, . 

J ^ 

J the West Indies, he had at last come to New Or- 
jj leans to assume command of a tug boat which plied 
J between that city and the gulf. He had prospered 
I the last few years, but money was of little value to 
him, for all he possessed was not sufficient to buy a 
^ moment’s happiness. The desire to hear from home, 
from those he loved, from whom he was self-ban- 
ished, perhaps forever, was, and had been for several 
years, a consuming passion. 

He had read of Sidney’s difficulty with Humphrey, 
and had learned from the same article that his son 
lived in the city and was a telegraph operator. Soon 
after reading the article, he had met his son on the 
street and recognized him at a glance. He was almost 
sure that Sidney was in receipt of letters ; that he had 
about his person such messages from the loved ones 
at home as he would give the world to see. With 
all the cunning of a professional sharper, he set about 
devising plans to accomplish his desire without 
throwing off the mask, which was essential to his 
good name and safety. Finding out Sidney’s board- 
ing liQuse and the room in which he slept, he pro- 
cured a dark lantern and repaired to the place at a 
late hour of the night when he knew that all the in- 
mates would be wrapped in slumber. Fortunately 
for his purpose the door was neither locked nor 
bolted. 

He quietly entered the hall and passed on to his 
son’s room which he entered. Sidney was sound 
asleep. 

The father slowly moved the lantern until the light 
c^fibrded him a good view of his son’s features with- 
out the glare of the light falling directly in the young 
man’s face. 


214 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


He trembled lest he might awaken his son ; turned 
away, but came again to take another look at the 
handsome, noble face in which purity of morals and 
rectitude of purpose were written in every line and 
feature. He was sleeping as innocently as when a 
child ; as when, in other days, he had kissed him 
good night and tucked the covering carefully about 
him in his tender solicitude for the boy’s comfort and 
safety. At last the wretched father turned sadly 
away from the boy he had always" loved ; the pride 
and joy of his life. A sad, mysterious fate had sep 
arated them forever ! 

On a peg in the wall hung the coat and vest worn 
by Sidney the day before. He searched the pockets 
with nervous haste. There were no letters, but care- 
fully wrapped in tissue paper was a photograph of 
Sidney, recently taken, also a new picture of his 
youngest boy, Artie. He placed the pictures care- 
fully in his own pocket. In Sidney’s vest pocket he 
found the printed slip giving the particulars of his 
own murder; this he also appropriated. 

Taking from his pocket-book five twenty dollar 
bills, he wrote with a pencil on a slip of paper: “ A 
present from an old friend of your father’s,” wrapped 
the bills in the note and placed the package in his 
son’s pocket and quietly left the room. 


215 


THE. BATTLE OF LIFE. 


CHAPTER XXXV. 

THE COLONEL SCENTS A WARM TRAIL. 

** Gold ! Thou load-stone of the soul ! Thou true magnetic pole, 
to which all hearts point duly north, like trembling needles !” 

^ ^ OOD morning. Col. Hensley.” 

Vir ** Why, Morris, I am truly glad to see 
you ! Here, take this seat near the win- 
dow. I will then have you in the light where I can 
look squarely into your honest face 

Col. Hensley seemed in an excellent humor this 
morning and Morris congratulated himself upon the 
prospect of having a pleasant chat with his old friend. 
The colonel was usually silent and melancholy, and 
this occasion, after all, was not likely to prove an ex- 
ception to the general rule, for, after the first friendly 
greetings were over, his friend fell into his old habit 
of listless, oblivious silence, and sat drumming with 
his long, bony fingers on the window-sill, gazing out 
at the people as they passed to and fro on the street. 
At last he said : 

I suppose this no longer appears like home to 
you, Morris. You have been away so long that you 
probably have no desire to return.” 

“No desire whatever. Colonel. Ohio has been very 
good to me and I am content to remain there. My 
children have formed associations and attachments 
very dear to them, and would not be willing to leave 
were I ever so anxious to return.” 

“ You have become Yankees, all of you, I sup- 
pose ?” 


2i6 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE, 


** In one sense, yes. My two oldest boys are now 
in the East attending college, and will probably re- 
turn to me more imbued with Yankee ideas than 
ever; but, as the North is to be their home, it is 
probably all for the best.” 

“ I am sorry, Morris, that circumstances should 
thus separate us. I am a Southern man, you know, 
in all the word implies, and it is painful to contem- 
plate what the future has in store for us. It is a sad 
thought that you and I may yet become bitter ene- 
mies.” 

That is hardly possible. Colonel. The fact that I 
am a citizen of a Northern state, and have imbibed 
in a measure the sentiments of the people among 
whom I live, should never cause the least bitterness 
between life-long friends. I can imagine nothing 
political that could shake my friendship for you, 
hence I am surprised to hear you talk so.” 

“You do not understand me, Morris. We are 
standing on the very brink of a terrible civil zvar. 
When the struggle comes, brave men and patriots 
like you and I will not be found idle or inactive. We 
will be face to face in the struggle.” 

“ I hope and pray that your predictions may never 
come true. Colonel.” 

“ It is past praying for, Morris. Nothing can pre- 
vent a war between the Northern and Southern States. 
The struggle is inevitable. All that is needed is a 
little blood-shed to begin the strife. It may not 
come for five years ; it may come in less than twelve 
months.” 

Morris, who had .grown weary of such gloomy 
forebodings, said : “ Excuse me. Colonel, for chang- 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


21/ 

ing the subject, but when did you hear from your 
nephew ? ” 

“Who?” 

“ My, young friend, Sidney Walton.” 

“ Oh yes ! Alice’s son! 1 have not heard his name 
mentioned since you spoke of him to me several 
years ago. I am as ignorant of the young man’s" 
whereabouts as I am of the present abode of the 
Wandering Jew, and, save in your presence, as indif- 
ferent.” 

“ I am sorry to hear you say so. Colonel. The 
young man deserves a warm place in your heart, and 
if you should ever meet your nephew, he will take 
possession of his own, despite your prejudice.” 

“Well, the young man has never troubled me; I 
can say that much to his credit. Where is he now? 
do you know? ” 

“ He is in New Orleans, working at his trade.” 

“I thought he was a roustabout, or something of 
the kind, on a steamboat.” 

Your nephew is a gentleman. Col. Hensley. He 
would never debase himself to such a low calling. 
He was never a ‘ roustabout.’ He was second clerk 
on the Quitman, but could not get along well with 
Logan, the first clerk, so he left the boat.” 

“ Do you know Logan’s Christian name ?” 

‘‘ Yes— Philip.” 

“ Philip Logan,” said Col. Hensley, in a musing 
tone of voice, as he wrote the name in a small blank 
book. “ Has this man a family? ” 

“Yes, sir; a wife and two children.” 

“ Their Christian names, please.” 

Writing down the name of each in the order given, 


2i8 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE, 


Col. Hensley added : ‘‘You. may be surprised at the 
interest I seem to take in this family, but I would 7iot 
take ten thousand dollars for the information I have 
just obtained. Like most men of my day and gener- 
ation, the chief aim of my life is to make money, 
and yet I have no natural or reasonable incentive 
thereto. Money has never brought me a moment’s 
happiness, perhaps never will.” 


CHAPTER XXXVI. 


DEAD TO ALL THE WORLD. 

How wretched, how sad the thought, to die and not be missed! ” 

C APT. WALTON, or Hamilton, as he now calls 
himself, had despaired of receiving any news 
from home. All his efforts to obtain informa- 
tion had so far proved abortive. In addition to this 
feeling of home-sickness, he had grown weary of 
looking at the dreary estuary, bounded by swamps, 
lakes and jungles. For days, often for weeks, the 
landscape was shrouded in dense fogs, obscuring the 
signal lights, often shutting out from view the sun 
itself. His vessel was inactive for days at a time, 
lying at the mouth of the river, where her crew was 
exposed to the deadly malarial poisons and to swarms 
of mosquitos whose nightly visits deprived the weary 
boatmen of rest, making existence little less than a 
curse to all on board. Lying in his hammock of 
nights, Walton’s Tnind wandered back to the sweet- 


THE BATTLE OE LIFE. 


219 


scented clover fields of Ohio, -and the sound of hum- 
ming bees and the song of birds returned to mock 
him. He would leave this dreary wilderness at once. 
To remain was to perish miserably, and, perhaps, be 
buried in this dreary jungle. 

The* discovery of Sidney, so far from home, was a 
surprise to the elder Walton. It increased his anx- 
iety to hear from home and confirmed the resolu- 
tion, vaguely defined but earnestly cherished, of re- 
turning to his native State. If his present disguise 
had deceived Sidney, why should he indulge the 
I least fear of recognition from others ? The last few 
! years of his wretched life had wrought many changes^ 
both in mind and sentiment. He now saw the folly 
of his past life in a light as different as day from 
night. He should have confessed his error to his 
family and thrown himself upon their love and sym- 
pathy. Without confessing the murder he could 
never explain the past. His conduct, as seen by all 
the world, save the four who knew his secret, was 
without cause or palliation. He would visit the 
old neighborhood, obtain news of his family, and 
then go West, where his skill as a civil engineer 
would soon enable him to earn sufficient money to 
replace the sum he had taken from the Pittsburg 
iron company. When he had satisfied this debt by 
paying principal and interest, he would come to life 
again, so to speak, return to his family and tell them 
everything. They would then remove to some dis- 
tant part of the country and spend the remainder of 
their days in peace and quiet. 

He visited the bank of New Orleans a few days 
before his departure and d^eposited one hundred dol- 


220 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. " 


lars in the name of A. Hamilton, for which he drew 
a check in favor of his son. He sent the check to 
Sidney with the following letter, written in a strange 
hand : 

My Dear Boy: Your old friend begs to present you with another 
small sum of money, as an earnest of the love he bears you, but not 
alone for your sake, but most of all, for your dead father's sake. You 
are the very picture of your father when he was a boy at Yale; you 
will therefore excuse a fond old man, who loves his friends — he never 
had many — for taking your picture, and the little b()y’s. The lad is 
just what your father was, perhaps, when a child, ere I knew him as a 
sworn brother and a precious, loving friend. I am alone in the world, 
and very lonely. I liave more money than I need ; hence it is no 
hardship to part with this, and even more if necessary. You may 
think it very strange that I do not seek you out and make your ac- 
quaintance. Well, I have good reasons for not doing so yet awhile. 
I will explain to you some day ; tell you all about my strange history. 
If you are ever in need of a friend — if you ever want money — ad" 
vertise in the personal columns of the New Orleans Times, and head 
your advertisement, A. H. A. Hamilton. 

Every mile of Captain Walton’s journey homeward 
increased his anxiety to hear from his family. 

It was a sad, bitter thought that he would soon be 
in the neighborhood of his old home, in plain view 
of it, perhaps, without the privilege of makin'g him- 
self known to the loved ones within. It was hard, 
yea, cruel, that he should only look through the 
gates of his domestic paradise without entering, but 
the sword of justice was waving, ever waving, be- 
tween him and his. ^ Was ever man so cruelly pun- 
ished for the sins of youth ? for the folly of inexperi- 
ence ? for the sin of intemperate pride ? But to hear 
from those he loved ; to know that they were yet 
alive — or if dead, or wretched, to know the worst — 
any knowledge of them — was better than this terrible 
suspense ever preying upon his mind. When he 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


221 


took the cars at Cincinnati for Mt. Astar his heart 
beat fast, and his face was flushed with feverish 
anxiety. A multitude of conflicting emotions rushed 
through his mind, and, for the first time in his long, 
hard, stormy life, he felt sick and faint from some 
indescribable premonition of evil, he knew not what. 
Perhaps his home was a wreck. Sidney would not 
have left his mother alone in the world-, for he loved 
her dearly. She had probably died of a broken 
heart when she learned of his wretched death. 

The event most calculated to wound the wretched 
man’s heart, however, he seems not to have dreaded 
at all — his wife’s niarriage. It had not occurred to 
him that such a thing was possible. There was but 
one man in the village worthy of such a lady as Mrs. 
Walton — whom her unhappy husband yet remem- 
bered as still young in years and very handsome. 
This man was Dr. Preston, a confirmed old bachelor, 
who had probably never seriously thought of matri- 
mony in his life, perhaps never would. 

Walton asked the conductor to put him off at a 
way-station, some distance from Mt. Astar, saying 
that he had friends in the neighborhood whom he 
wished to see. The truth was, he dared not enter 
the village by daylight and preferred making the last 
ten miles of his journey by slow stages, hoping to 
find out from strangers that which he dared not ask 
' of his old neighbors ; those who knew him well in 
other and better days. 

The lights burned brightly in the farm-houses by 
the wayside, and the merry, cheerful laugh of chil- 
dren smote heavily upon his ear as he passed along; 
it seemed to mock the yearning, overpowering desire 


222 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


of his heart Suddenly he came across an Irish labor- 
er, a section hand of the road. This man was cer- 
tainly a stranger to him if not to his. He would ask 
him a few questions : 

My friend, do you live in this neighborhood ? ” 

Yis, yer honor.” 

How far from here? 

‘‘ At the secshun house, me hearty, wid Mike 
O’Flannagan, an’ Bridget, his wife, an’ the distance 
is a mile, it is.” 

How long have you and Mike been living in this 
neighborhood ? ” 

“Faith, an’ its four years, come nixt Jinawary, 
since I lint me spade ’ginst the wall o’ Mike’s shanty. 
Lord luv his sould ! an’ Mike’s been here longer, he 
hes.” 

“ How much longer ? ” 

“ Indade, I don’t know,.but I’d make bold to say 
not more thin a year an’ a haf. He’s been a bruther 
to me, Mike hes, an’ Bridget a saster, an’ toim passes 
away on wheels, it does, whin a feller is very happy. 
Do you moind that, now ? ” 

Walton heaved a deep sigh, at the mere mention 
of the word happiness. Here was a poor, illiterate, 
hard-working Irishman returning from his day’s toil, 
talking about happiness; about time “passing on 
wheels ” in Mike’s humble shanty ! He envied this 
humble son of toil the contentment, the happiness 
he enjoyed. If he had once been proud and haughty, 
misfortune had completely softened his heart. He 
had been born ^ncj reared a gentleman ; he used to 
boast his patrician blood, and his handsome form 
and cultivated mind was embellished and sustained 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE, 


223 


to the very best advantage by fortune. He had 
I married into one of the best families of Kentucky. 
I He had much cause to be proud — more cause to be 

j humble. The past, with its fitful changes; down- 

j ward, ever downward, has brought the proudest man 
in the great State of Ohio to this wretched plight. He 
humbly begs a small portion of Mike O’Flannagan’s 
charity — the privilege of lying for the night on the 
bare floor of his clapboard shanty. 

Taking Mike O’Flannagan aside next morning, 
Walton said : 

** Mr. O’Flannagan, I am a stranger to all the peo- 
ple of this neighborhood, though I used to be well 
acquainted over at Mt. Astar. Do you know any 
one in that village ?” 

** Yis, yer honor, I know Dr. Preston, Dinis Piper, 
Moses Armstead, the miller, Parson Hayne, an’ a 
few Irish lads as work on the Mt. Astar section.” 

How is Dr. Preston getting along Walton en- 
[ <juired, eagerly. 

j ’Mazing well, God bless him !” said Mike, with 

I true Irish enthusiasm. Do you moind the gran’ 
manshun on the hill, wid its tall chimneys, nice walks 
an’ marble ornamints standin’ roun’ benathe the big 
trees, loike the manor houses of the gintry in the 
ould country ? ” 

'‘Very well,” said Walton, with a severe eflbrt to 
control his feelings. 

“Well,” said Mike, looking with eurprise at Wal- 
ton, who seemed greatly excited, “ Dr. Preston now 
owns the foin manshun on the hill. Its good luck I 
am wishing the good mon for his kindness to me last 
spring. I was thrown from a hand-car near the vil- 


224 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE, 


lage.an’ brake me leg. It was moity bad, me leg 
was, an’ the doctor thought he would have to take 
it off, he did, but the Lord be praised, an’ the doc- 
tor too, I got well agin, an’ here I be, sound as iver, 
an’ not a cint to pay. When the good mon found I 
was poor wid a large family to feed an’ clothe wid 
the labor of me two hands, he said to me : ‘ Mike, I 
won’t charge ye nothin’ for settin’ the leg; I’m rich 
an’ don’t need it.’ He’s a good mon, an’ desarves 
the foin house an’ the pretty angel of a woman as 
brought me tay, an’ soups, an’ nice toasts to eat wid 
it, when I lay flat on me back nursin’ me poor leg.” 

Walton trembled from head to foot. “ Is Dr. 
Preston married ?” he asked, in a voice husky and 
tremulous with emotion. 

Indade he is, an’ a purtyer, swater woman niver 
lived in all the wide world than his wife.” 

Walton stood like one in a trance. He must 
know, yet dreaded to ask.. Who else in the village 
could be the wife of Dr. Preston but the wife of his 
own bosom ? the mother of his children ? He would 
hardly seek elsewhere for a wife, being so careless, 
indolent and unromantic. It must be Alice ! Sup- 
pressing his feelings as much as possible, he asked : 

‘‘Did the Doctor marry in his own village?” 

“ Yis, at the little church beyant the depo. It 
was a quiet widding, because, ye see, the lady’s hus- 
band had been kilt in a row — ” 

Walton clutched the boards of the yard fence, 
against which he leaned heavily for support — he al- 
most ceased to breathe. Averting his face, that 
Mike might not observe his deep, frantic emotion, 
he listened with painful anxiety to the remainder of 
this painful story. _ 


THE BATTLE OE LIFE. 


225 


“She had not ceased to mourn for the poor mon, 
for he had been very good to her, so they say, but 
he took too much of the creathur, an’ spent too 
much of his toim wid Dinis. He’s a divil, Dinis is. 
The black-guard has an Irish name, but niver a drop 
of Irish blood in his body. The poor mon spent his 
money — ruined himself — brought poverty and sad- 
ness to his sweate family long before he went away. 
His oldest son, as pretty a lad, they say, as you iver 
laid eyes on, was driven from home and hes niver 
been seen or heard of since. If he knew how noice 
things now are at the manshun he would come home, 
indade he would.” 

Thrusting a dollar into Mike’s hand, Walton 
turned and walked hurriedly away. The Irishman 
I followed, protesting that he did not want the money, 
but the wretched man neither stopped or looked 
back. 

“ Somethin’ wrong,” muttered Mike, as he returned 
to his shanty. “That mon is either crazy or bent on 
mischief. He knows more about those people than 
he lets on to — more than I do, an’ the divil is in his 
heart, too, I’m thinking.” 


226 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE, 


CHAPTER XXXVII. 

SHALL die!” 


dy 

ard’s virtue, and the knave’s disguise. O vengeance ! take me all — 
I’m wholly thine ! ” 

LL that was evil in the nature of Captain Wal- 
ton now asserted itself with the strength of a 
giant and the fury of a" demon. He was 
swayed, driven by passion as he had never been be- 
fore, save when a boy ; save when he struck the fatal 
blow which deprived young Duvall of life and placed 
the mark of Cain upon his own brow. 

It was a terrible feeling. He had prayed never to 
be under its influence again, but fate had once more 
thrown him into the clutches of this evil spirit, the 
animus of which was death, murder. 

** He shall die F' he muttered, turning away from 
Mike O’Flannagan and continuing his journey in the 
direction of the quiet village that lay nestled in the 
verdant valley but a few miles away. “ The villain 
shall die!” At last he turned aside and entered a 
dense wood through which flowed a brook of clear 
water. When out of sight, he quietly paused and 
bathed his hands and hot, feverish temples in the 
cool, refreshing water, and then lying down in the 
tall grass, fell asleep, for the rough boards of Mike’s 
shanty had almost deprived him of rest the night 
before. When he awoke the day was far spent. 
The birds were still singing in the tree-tops as if to 


TBE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


227 


mock his sorrow and render him more miserable 
than ever by their cheerful songs. He knew them 
all by name. When a boy he would spend whole 
days strolling with dog and gun through the woods, 
and when weary would lie down, just as he had done 
to-day, and fall asleep listening to the merry music. 
Later in life, when no longer a boy, but a man 
and a father, he often strolled through the same 
woods, accompanied by his bright, beautiful boy, 
who was equally fond of the birds, and asked a 
thousand questions about their names and habits. 
The birds were the same. The very songs they sang 
to-day he had heard when a boy; had heard when 
he used to lead his own cherished boy by the hand 
and teach him to name them by the songs they sang. 
He had not forgotten them, nor their songs, 
but, -somehow, the music had ceased to charm the 
senses; it only reminded him of past happiness and 
present ^rrow. 

His resolution had undergone no change. Com- 
muning with nature had not softened his heart in the 
least. He would not admit that -Dr. Preston was 
blameless in the sight of God and man. He would 
not allow the recollection of past favors to obstruct 
or fetter his passion for revenge. He felt that he had 
borne too much already. To be thus robbed of the 
last hope of happiness in this world was more than 
he could bear. Preston had not only deprived him 
of wife and children — so he reasoned, in his blind, 
passionate way, — but must needs have the Walton 
Mansion, to complete his felicity* while he wan- 
dered up and down the earth houseless, friendless, 
despised and forgotten ! 


228 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


He took a revolver from a small traveling bag 
which he carried -in his hand and examined it care- 
fully. He withdrew the loads and placed fresh 
cartridges in all the cylinders. 

Night came on at last, and it proved to be very 
dark. Heavy black clouds rose slowly and by night- 
fall had completely overcast the sky. The wretched 
man stole out from his lair as slyly as a panther 
seeking his prey. He had not forgotten the shape 
and topography of the country, though many changes 
had taken place since he last traveled in the direc- 
tion he was now going. He passed through pastures, 
corn fields and meadows until he reached the small 
stream upon which the village was situated. Fol- 
lowing this stream, he soon reached the railroad 
bridge, where, concealing himself under the arches, 
he waited for the villagers to retire. 

He could hear the barking of dogs, the merry 
shouts of children, and the songs of the laborers re- 
turning from their day’s work. Everything, every- 
body seemed merry and happy ; he alone was 
wretched ! 

At last everything was still as death. He stole 
out from under the great stone arches and soon 
found himself on the highway which ran through the 
village. There was a light still burning in the bar- 
room of Denis Piper’s hotel, but the doors were 
closed and everything was still within. He passed 
through the village unobserved by any one, and 
soon found himself on the broad, graveled carriage 
road which led wp to the Walton Mansion. 

The great heavy gate, which stood between two 
stone pillars upon which rested large marble urns 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


229 

that looked beautiful even in the darkness, opened 
without noise, and Captain Amos Walton once more 
stepped into the yard of his old home. 

It was his intention to ring the bell ; call Dr. Pres- 
ton to the door and shoot him down, and escape in 
the confusion that must certainly follow. 

There was a bright light in the family room. 
He would first step to the window and look in. It 
was dark and dreary outside. A casual glance from 
within would hardly reveal the intrusive gaze, and 
if it did, the mask he wore would prevent recogni- 
tion. 

Almost the first object that met his gaze was the 
life-sized portraits of his father and mother, hanging 
side by side on the wall. It was the old family sit- 
ting room, dear to his boyhood, dearer still to the 
man and father. 

Dr. Preston was sitting in an ea^y-chair reading to 
the children from a story book. Mrs. Preston, who 
looked almost as young, and quite as beautiful as 
ever, was doing some fancy needle-work, while Ella 
sat by her side taking her evening lesson in tatting 
and afghan stitch. The oldest daughter, now a beau- 
tiful young woman, was caressing a pretty, smiling 
babe, which lay kicking and crowing for joy in its 
cozy crib that stood very near the father’s side, so 
that he might see the dimpled face of his pretty boy 
as often as he raised his eyes from the book. Artie 
was sitting in a low chair, his curly head resting in 
the Doctor’s lap, listening intently to the story which 
was being read mainly for his benefit. 

Walton looked on with an anxious, throbbing 
heart. A great change had come over him in the 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE, 


230 

last few minutes — he felt riveted to the spot. He 
had not the power to tear himself away from this 
hallowed scene of filial and paternal affection. 

It was a terrible ordeal, such as few, very few are 
ever called to endure ; such as few could look upon 
and live. To the wayfarer without, life is a cruel 
burden ; to those within, a realization of all that is 
joyous and good; the beginning of that perfect 
felicity which ends not through all eternity. How 
great the reward of virtue ! The way of the trans- 
gressor, how very, very hard ! 

“ Here, Artie,” said Dr. Preston, reaching him the 
open book, “take ‘Robinson’ and put him away. 
You are sleepy, my son, and I am tired; we will not 
read any more to-night. Mark the page, and, remem- 
ber, it is your turn to read to-morrow night.” 

The boy rose ‘from his seat without speaking. 
Taking the book frpm his hands he placed it care- 
fully in the library. Returning, he kissed his 
mother good-night, and, approaching the Doctor, 
took his large, broad hand in both of his, and 
raising it almost on a level with his own head, said 
in that familiar tone of voice, which time and distance 
had not obliterated from the memory of the wretched 
man without : 

“ Good night, papa ! ” 

“ Good night, Artie I Don’t let Robinson’s ship- 
wreck disturb your slumbers.” 

Walton observed the boy narrowly. Of all his 
children, he had always loved him most. The others 
would shrink from him when drinking — when angry 
and disagreeable — but Artie never did. He had not 
forgotten the gentle, loving disposition of the boy, 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


231 


and the sight of him, and the sound of his sweet, 
musical voice, thrilled the unhappy father more than 
words can tell. The boy had grown nearly a foot 
taller, but was, otherwise, very much the same. 

Reaching the door, Artie paused a moment, then 
turned and walked back. Approaching Dr. Preston 
he laid his hand on his shoulder and looking very 
earnestly into his face said : 

Pa, if anybody comes for you to-night don’t go. 
It’s awful dark, and it’s going to rain — I know it is — 
for the old rain crow’s been hollerin’ all day down in 
the orchard, and the tree frog’s been chirpin’ all 
evening in the mulberry tree by the well — and that’s 
a sign of rain, you know.” 

“ Thank you, my son ! thank you for your kind 
warnings,” said the Doctor, as he gently pushed back 
the^Oft, auburn curls from the boy’s fair, intellectual 
forehead, I will take your advice ; I will not go out 
to-night under any circumstances.” 

“ I am so glad you promised Artie,” said Mrs. 
Preston, after the boy had left the room. He is so 
considerate and thoughtful of the comfort of others; 
I am sure he would not have closed his eyes to sleep 
had he thought that you were exposed to the storm.” 

He has the most affectionate disposition I have 
ever known,” said the Doctor, earnestly. “ Do you 
believe me, Alice, I would do more to accommodate 
that child than I would the Governor of Ohio.” 

“ I am' sure you would ; and I would do the same.” 

** By the way, how did he ever get that queer idea 
into his head about the rain crow and the tree-frog?’* 
said the Doctor, laughing. 

“I do not know; from the servants, I suppose. 


232 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE, 


They are always telling him strange stories, and he 
is so confiding and earnest in his nature that he be- 
lieves all they say. I don’t know that I would have 
him different,” said Mrs. Preston, after a brief silence, 
“but I sometimes think he is a trifle too childish for 
a boy of his age.” 

“ Not a bit of it, my dear,” said the Doctor, em- 
phatically. “Artie and Ella are children; they act 
like children ; it pleases me ; I would not have them 
at all less childish. Deliver me from little men and 
little women, such as we hear so much talk about in 
Sunday schools, and read about in our Sabbath 
school literature. It is disgusting enough to read of 
such, still more to deal with those little men and 
women who assume the airs of maturity almost as 
soon as they are out of their swaddling clothes. If 
our children are childish, I love them all the more 
for their innocent, artless childishness. I almost 
dread to think of the day when there will be no child 
in the house.” 

Walton had heard and seen all that we have relat- 
ed in this chapter. 

Mrs. Preston rose and walked to the window to let 
down the curtains which had been looped up during 
the day. 

Dr. Preston had risen, also, and was standing over 
his baby’s crib, looking down into its pretty face as 
it lay asleep in its cozy nest. His warm, genial heart 
was all aglow with fatherly pride. His love for this 
child was not greater, perhaps, but was different, 
quite different, from that which he felt for the Walton 
children. This was of his own flesh and blood. It 
would bear his name and perpetuate it, God willing, 
through ages and generations yet to come. 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


233 


A sudden scream from his wife startled him. 

She would have fallen to the floor had he not 
caught her in his arms. 

She had fainted. 




CHAPTER XXXVIII. 


A LOST SECRET. 


“ Curse the tongue whence slanderous rumor, like the adder’s drop, 
distills her venom, withering friendship’s faith, turning love’s favor.” 

C a) great change had come over the life of 
Delia Logan. Had she been truly loved by 
society, this change would have deepened 
their affection and caused their hearts to go out in 
warmest sympathy for one so lovely, so deserving, 
and so ardently desirous of the affection of others. 
But the circle in which she moved, or into which she 
was dragged by her designing mother, was the gay- 
est of the gay. The men and women of her set 
cared not at all for unhappy people, unless they could 
hide their misery a thousand fathoms out of sight. 
Mrs. Logan could do this — her daughter could not. 

It was only a matter of time with the Lc%ans. 
Mrs. Logan knew this very well, but she never falt- 
ered. Her merry voice and cheerful laugh was still 
heard in the salons of fashion, and she seemed to 
grow more reckless and defiant the more her fortunes 
waned. She was playing a desperate game ; playing 
for big stakes, and still hoped to win. Delia must 


234 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE: 


and should marry a rich man. At last she had set- 
tled this business in her own mind, and to her entire 
satisfaction : Delia should marry Otho Delmont, the 
son of a capitalist — the veritable gold-bug of society. 

Without winning the young lady’s consent, and 
with the full knowledge that he was hated, not loved, 
Otho Delmont had asked Delia’s hand in marriage, 
and her parents, who were indebted to the wealthy 
young suitor for many favors, had graciously con- 
sented. Love was a matter of no very great impor- 
tance to Delrnpnt. He was rich. Money was all- 
powerful. His magnificent establishment, the finest 
in the city, would reconcile Delia to a loveless match, 
and when once his wife and a leader in society, she 
would learn to love, or at least honor and* respect 
him, for no woman, brought up and educated as she 
had been, could long remain indifferenf to the splen- 
did life she must lead as the wife of the richest man 
in the city. Delia’s magnificent beauty had capti- 
vated the young man’s fancy. She was the only 
woman in the wide world, perhaps, whom he could af- 
ford to marry under such humiliating circumstances, 
bul never in his life had he beheld such radiant beauty, 
blended with all the excellent accomplishments of 
head and heart ; peerless in form and feature, and, 
withal, the most lovable woman in the world. Nearly 
a scorft of fashionable beauties were striving to attract 
Delmont’s attention, but he had turned away from 
them all to bestow his worthless heart upon one who 
detested the very sight of him. 

Delia hated Otho Delmont, — not because she 
loved Sidney Walton — for she had hated this man ere 
she had met the true object of her affection • hated 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE, 


235 


him for his imbecility, his foppish, simpering man- 
ners ; for his false idea of woman — because he was 
too selfish and mean to love a woman as a wife — and 
last, not least, she hated him because he had not the 
manhood to cease his persecutions ^fter being told 
repeatedly that she loathed the Very sight of him. 
She would never marry Otho Delmont ; she would 
die in a convent ere she would become the wife of a 
brainless, heartless, soulless fop. 

She thought in those wretched, bitter hours of the 
noble young man she had been forced to discard to 
satisfy the whim of her father and the caprice of her 
vain and frivolous mother. He was one of nature’s 
noblemen. He had loved her once, she had not a 
doubt of this ; and what a noble, precious love this 
was ! A love that comes to a woman but once in a 
lifetime. How she had longed to claim this love, for 
it was rightfully hers ; it was sent to her, she felt, as 
heaven’s best gift ; it would have made her life as 
happy as heart could wish. Repulsed ere he had 
hardly dared to hope, he had turned away and be- 
stowed this wealth of love upon another. She did not 
blame Sidney Walton ; she did not blame Eva Duvall ; 
alas, no ! yet how very, very sad the thought, that she 
must blame her own father and mother for striking 
this heartless, cruel blow ! 

Delia, driven almost to despair by the persecu- 
tions of Delmont and the importunities of her 
mother, resolved to appeal to her father to shield her 
from a fate more to be dreaded than death itself. 
His answer was brief, unloving, even harsh in senti- 
ment. Her mother knew best. Delmont’s^ offer of 
marriage was an honor to be proud of, He was sur- 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


236 

prised, mortified beyond measure, that she should 
express the least dislike of a young man of such 
excellent family, and so very rich. Delmont would 
make a fine lady of her, and when once the wife of 
this man, she would be able to do much for her par- 
ents. They were all very poor. They were living 
beyond their means. Ruin stared them in the face. 
There was but one way to avoid a life of wretched 
poverty, with all the evils incident to such a life. 
She must marry Delmont. He begged, implored, 
yea, commanded her to do so. 


Mrs. Logan was determined to find out the whole 
secret of Delia’s love for young Walton, and, if possi- 
ble, how far they had progressed in this love-making. 
She had learned from Delmont enough to confirm 
her worst suspicions and render her very uneasy. 
He had, when alone with Delia, spoken very dis- 
paragingly of Sidney Walton ; had expressed sur- 
prise that a lady of family, wealth and culture, like 
Eva Duvall, should condescend to keep company 
with a mechanic — a country rustic — one who 
should esteem himself 'fortunate if permitted to act 
in the capacity of a servant to such a fine lady. At 
this Delia bridled instantly. She declared with much 
feeling that young Walton was a gentleman, a prince 
among men, the peer of any man in the city — that 
he was the truest, noblest young man she had ever 
known. Delmont told Mrs. Logan this, and more: 
he told her — how little and mean such gossip must 
have seemed, even to Mrs. Logan — that Delia actu- 
ally wept from sheer anger. 

How disgusting,” continued he, ‘Hhat a gentle- 


THE BATTLE OF LITE. 


237 

man should have a hog-and-hominy rustic — a pauper, 
save for his daily wages — thwarting him in this way! 
Your daughter is amazingly pretty, and very intelli- 
gent and lovely — I cannot help loving her — but her 
taste needs cultivating, and to this end we must get 
rid of young Walton. Wonder if he would not leave 
the city for a few hundred dollars ? I am sure it 
would seem a fortune to such a poor creature. 
Yankees are so mercenary, you know.” 

Mrs. Logan despised Sidney Walton with all her 
heart, but she knew the young man better than to 
approach him with a bribe, even if the hundreds 
spoken of were multiplied by thousands. She an- 
swered Belmont’s question without a moment’s hes- 
itation : 

“ No, that will never do. He cares less for money 
than you think. Leave this matter to me. I will 
dispose of the fellow in my own way.” 

“ He is a dog I he is hardly worth noticing, but 
should he become very troublesome, I will chastise 
him — flog him publicly. That would disgrace the 
fellow, you know. Young ladies, especially South- 
ern ladies, despise a coward.” 

“Do not attempt it, I pray you. He is larger and 
stronger than you, and, to do him justice, he is not a 
coward. He would certainly resist, and you might 
get the worst of it ; besides, it would cause gossip. 
No ; leave the fellow to me ; I will manage his case 
in a more quiet way.” 

True to her promise, Mrs. Logan set about the 
accomplishment of her purpose, and in a way that 
did her no credit, except for cunning and intrigue. 
To satisfy herself that Walton and Delia were really 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


238 

lovers, she stole the key to her daughter's writing 
desk, and purloined her letters. 

Her fears were more than realized. Delia and 
Sidney Walten were indeed lovers. Here was a long 
letter she had written to her brother, but for some 
cause or other had not mailed it. This made the 
matter very clear indeed : Delia not only loved Sid- 
ney Walton, but her son, John, was well acquainted 
with the young man, and the two were bosom 
friends. John was no doubt doing all he could to 
encourage Delia in her foolish love for this contempt- 
ible vagabond ! At last she came across one of her 
son’s letters to Delia. She had read this before ; it 
contained no news. Inside of this letter, however, 
was a smaller envelope, sealed. On the back of it, in 
Delia’s hand, was written : “ Private ; to be de- 
stroyed.” 

Alas ! why had she not destroyed this letter ! 
Why is it that people keep dangerous secrets 
exposed to prying eyes ? There is a strange fascina- 
tion in a terrible secret like this ; a charm that often 
captivates and bewilders the senses. We sport with 
it as the moth sports with the flame, thinking when 
satiated with curiosity to hide it foreveer from sight. 
So it was with this fatal letter. "" 

Mrs. Logan deftly, eagerly clipped the'end of the 
envelope, so that in restoring the document to its 
place the end might be closed again in such a man- 
ner as to defy detection. 

It was a lengthy letter. It was from John, too ! 
What could it mean ? She had not read far ere she 
was startled by the strange import of the document. 
It told of the strange interview with Tomlin. 


THE BATTLE OP LIFE, 


239 


Mrs. Logan almost shouted for joy : “Would to 
God your ‘ scape-gallows ’ father had lived a little 
longer,” murmured she ; “ I would so like the privil- 
ege of hanging him. He is past my vengeance, 
however, hM^you are not, Mr, Sidney Walton, I will 
disgrace you ; I will cause the Duvalls to hate and 
shun you, and when Eva gives you ‘ the mitten,* 
society will drop you like a hot potato. You will 
have to sneak back into your den, where you prop- 
erly belong, you J>ledeian son of a criminal father! I 
have always said that you were nobody, and, thanks 
to my perseverance, I now have the proof that you 
are even worse than you seemed. I know just how 
to trip you, now, my fine young fellow, and will soon 
send you home to your Yankee mother, who should 
have been made a widow by the hangman. Had 
you not aspired to wed your betters, I should have 
spared you, but it is a duty I owe to society to ex- 
pose such trash, and I will do it, too, without mercy I* 

When Mrs. Preston recovered from her fright, she 
informed the doctor that she had seen a tall man 
with a black mask over his face, gazing in at the 
window. She at first thought that it was only imag- 
ination, but the head appeared to move, and the 
eyes, peering through large holesdn the- mask, look- 
ed full into her own, appealingly. There seemed to 
be nothing vicious in the look. How long she stood 
gazing into those strange, sad eyes she could not tell. 
She remembered trying to speak, trying to cry out, 
but could not. At last she felt faint and sick; felt 
that she could no longer stand upon her feet. All 
sensation of life and feeling seemed to forsake her in 
an instant — then all was darkness and oblivion. 


240 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


Dr. Preston and the servants searched the premi- 
ses, but without finding any trace of the strange man. 

Late that night the porter at the Pilgrim’s Rest” 
heard a loud knocking at the front door, and called 
out : 

Who’s there ? What do you want? ” 

‘‘A hungry, benighted traveler. You need have 
no fears ; I am an honest man.” 

Lighting a lamp, the porter turned the key in the 
lock, pushed back the strong iron bolt, and said: 

“ Walk in, sir.” 

The stranger quietly entered ; paused in the mid- 
dle of the room and looked around as though he-had 
expected to meet some one and was surprised and 
disappointed to find that individual absent. 

The porter offered him a seat. 

‘‘ Thank you, my friend,” said the stranger, in a 
low, earnest tone of voice, looking the porter full in 
the face as he spoke, “ I have not tasted food for 
nearly forty-eight hours. Will you please let me 
have something to eat? ” 

“ This is not a soup-house, sir. All our contribu- 
tions to charity are made in cash and paid over the 
counter.” 

This 'was said in that insolent tone and manner so 
peculiar to little men clothed in very brief authority. 

The stranger seemed to take no offense at the 
porter’s insulting language, but slowly pulling a large 
purse from his pocket, poured out a handful of gold 
and silver, at the sight of which the rude domestic 
commenced apologizing as fast as his tongue could 
speak. The stranger stopped him with a sudden 
gesture, 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


241 


I want no conversation with you, sir — none at 
all ! Bring me something to eat. Place the food on 
the counter. It is late and I do not wish to put you 
to any unnecessary trouble.” 

The stranger quietly devoured the food which the 
porter placed before him, carving the cold roast with 
his own bowie-knife, which he took from a scabbard 
that was fastened to an unseen belt. After finishing 
his meal and paying for it, he stood and gazed long 
and anxiously at the bottles so neatly arranged on 
the shelf behind the counter. At last, pointing to 
one labelled “ brandy,” he said : 

“ Let me look at that bottle.” 

Taking it in his hand he quietly examined the 
trade-mark, then said, as if talking to himself : 

“Yes, the very same ! the very same ! ” 

“ ThaPs an excellent brandy,” said the bar-tender, 
encouragingly, “ the very best in the market.” 

“Yes,” said the stranger, musingly. 

“ Shall I draw the cork for you ? ” 

“ What’s it worth ? ” said the stranger, caressing 
the bottle. 

“ One dollar. We have a size smaller for fifty 
cents.” 

The stranger drew out his purse and quietly and 
slowly deposited two half dollars on the counter. 
His hand trembled — the silver rattled in his fingers. 
The bar-keeper noticed his agitation and said : 

“ Are you ill, sir ? ” 

“No, no ; only weak and nervous from long fast- 
ing.” 

“ Shall I draw the cork ? A good drink of this will 
revive you very much.” 

IS 


242 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


The stranger pushed the bottle towards the bar- 
tender without saying a word. There was evidently 
a great struggle going on in his mind. Of this the 
porter knew nothing, and cared less ; he was only 
anxious to sell his poison at a high price for cash in 
hand. He now had the price of the bottle in his 
greedy clutches. If the man died that very night, 
like a dog in the gutters, it was nothing to him. 

There were tears in the stranger’s eyes. He evi- 
dently did not wish to expose his weakness and was 
struggling manfully to suppress his emotion. Slip- 
ping his hand quietly into his side pocket, he drew 
forth a handkerchief, and with it, accidentally, some 
loose papers and a photograph, which fell upon the 
counter before his eyes. 

The picture was that of a beardless boy, just verg- 
ing on manhood. His noble, handsome features 
were in sad contrast to. the haggard, care-worn face 
that now bent lovingly over the picture. 

It was a moment of supreme interest ; the turning 
point, perhaps, in the fate of this lone wanderer, who 
has, after years of peril and sorrow and disappoint- 
ment, returned to the den of the old serpent to be 
again bitten — fatally this time, if at aU — for he is no 
longer able to bear the sting and live. He gazes 
intently at the picture before him. It is only a 
photograph, but this miniature presentment of one 
he so ardently loves is eloquent, even in its silence. 
It speaks volumes of past misery and future, pros- 
pective woe. It is the omnipotent hand of mercy 
outstretched between a man of many sorrows, who 
would fain add eternal misery to earthly pain, and 
the instrument of his destruction. Love prevails. 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


243 


When the bar-tender, who had turned his back to 
the stranger while drawing the cork from the bottle, 
turned to hand him the liquor he was gone. 


CHAPTER XXXIX. 


DECEIT IN SILKS, MALICE IN BROADCLOTH. 

Damn with faint praise, ascent with civil leer, 

And, without sneering, teach the rest to sneer ; 

Willing to wound, and yet afraid to strike. 

Just hint a fault, and hesitate dislike.” 

"V EW ORLEANS society was all agog over the 
\ first grand party of the season, given at the res- 
idence of Mr. and Mrs. Temple and in honor 
of Miss Eva Duvall, at least it was so announced, 
and that young lady, assisted by Miss Temple, was 
expected to do the honors of the occasion. It 
proved, however, rather a re-union of friends and 
acquaintances of the family, young and old, with 
special arrangements for the comfort and amusement 
of all, irrespective of age or disposition. 

Those who received invitations esteemed them- 
selves fortunate .indeed, for it was a social privilege 
to be proud of; one.looked forward to and hoped 
for in vain by not a few who esteemed themselves 
altogether worthy. 

Sidney Walton was not at all surprised to learn 
that his presence was desired and expected on this 
pleasurable occasion. Under the circumstances, had 


244 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE, 


he not been honored with an invitation he would 
have construed the slight as intentional and accepted 
it as a death-blow to all his bright hopes of future 
happiness — hopes that centered about the heiress of 
Duvall, but mainly for her own sake, independent of 
her vast fortune. What a grand future for a penni- 
less youth; a stranger in a strange land, possessing 
only such qualities of head and heart as nature in 
her most generous mood had. bestowed upon him. 
How proud he was of Eva Duvall’s love ! He no 
longer doubted the sincerity of her attachment, for 
she would never have braved public sentiment for his 
sake had she not esteemed him worthy of her so- 
ciety ; yea, worthy of her love. 

The contrast between Eva and Delia was, judg- 
ing from his standpoint, very great indeed, and 
altogether in Eva’s favor. How little he knew of 
Miss Logan’s heroic sacrifice for his sake, for the 
sake of her rival, who, in common with all others, 
seemed to misconstrue her generous, honest motives. 
Delia knew the secret of Eva’s heart, and she knew 
another secret, which, if told, would perhaps estrange 
Eva’s affection forever. Yet this brave, true, noble 
woman kept the secret and in so doing trampled her 
own love in the dust. How unjust it must seem 
that the man for whom she has made this great 
sacrifice should think her proud, cold and selfish! 
should look upon her as the affianced lover of Otho 
Delmont, and believing this, should feel a virtuous 
contempt for her on that account! Yet Walton is 
not to blame. A few words of simple explanation, 
and all might have been well, but they are too far 
apart to speak those honest, truthful words, though 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


245 


struggling for utterance, and are daily drifting fur- 
ther and further beyond the reach of explanation. 
Eva, too, was deceived. She had even congratu- 
lated Delia upon her approaching marriage without 
noticing her displeasure, or heeding her friend’s 
words, notwithstanding the earnest manner in which 
Delia had expressed her detestation of Delmont. 
The truth was, everybody seemed to think it a 
splendid match and no one could believe that she 
was seriously in earnest when she declared that 
under no circumstances would she wed Otho Del- 
, mont. 

At first Delmont affected utter indifference to De- 
lia’s objections, for he had the promise of Mrs. Logan 
and the consent of the young lady’s father. The 
Logans were too much dependent upon his bounty 
to be unmindful of his wishes. The young lady 
would soon forget her foolish love for this Yankee 
adventurer, and then all would be well. He was 
mortified, not to say indignant, at having been thus 
thwarted, but Delia had only to accept his proffered 
love, and the wretched past with all its disagreeable 
memories would be obliterated from his memory. 
But all such hopes had so far proved fallacious. 
Delia still refused to name the day when she would 
espouse the name and honors he was so eager to 
confer. Foiled in all his hopes and plans, he vented 
the fiercest maledictions on Sidney Walton. He 
believed that Delia had bestowed her affections on 
young Walton, and was now encouraged in this be- 
lief by Mrs. Logan. He resolved to crush the pre- 
sumptuous rustic, if money, power and influence 
could accomplish the young man’s ruin. And he 


246 


THE BATTLE OE LIFE, 


had no scruples as to the means he should employ, 
and no fear, other than the fear of failure. 

There was a general misunderstanding all round. 
Walton, though innocent, was made the victim 
of spite, ridicule and persecution. He had met 
Delmont frequently, but knew little of him and 
did not care to know more. Like everybody 
else, he supposed the young capitalist to be the 
accepted lover of Delia Logan, but did not feel 
the least jealous on that account. He had fre- 
quently expressed himself to Eva, but to no one 
else, that Delmont, with all his wealth, was not wor- 
thy of Delia ; and Eva was of precisely the same 
opinion. This was the head and front of his offend- 
ing. 

With feelings such as these they all met face to 
face at Captain Temple’s. 

Mrs. Logan was in a furore of pleasurable excite- 
ment. The grand ball at Capt. Temple’s was, to this 
vain woman, a matter of the very greatest importance. 
As for Delia, she was only vexed and worried at the 
thought of again playing her part in the role of a 
fashionable beauty. Though much of the time of 
each was consumed in making preparations for this 
grand entertainment, both found time to attend to a 
little private business which weighed heavily on the 
minds of each. Mrs. Logan’s task has already been 
hinted. She repaired to her private chamber and 
wrote the following note to Mrs. Duvall : 

My Dear Mrs. Duvall:— I n the path of duty we often have 'no 
choice of our own, and so it is with your unhappy friend. My love 
for Eva, my respect for you and the noble name you bear, impels me 
, to reveal a sad truth which I cannot, under the circumstances, honor- 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


247 


ably conceal. Eva has formed an unfortunate attachment. Her lover 
is not her equal in any respect, but I should not have written to you 
concerning the matter had this been all. Unfortunately, you have much 
cause to dread the marriage of Eva and this man. His name is Sidney 
Walton. His father, Capt. Amos Walton, murdered Eva^s brother. 
ki. proof of this, I enclose my brother’s letter, written from London a 
few months ago. Your affectionate friend, 

Delia Logan. 

Mrs. Logan not only signed her daughter’s name, 
but counterfeited her handwriting as well. This 
would alienate Delia and Eva Duvall. The shrewd 
matron did not mean to wait, however, for the- slow 
process of this scheme alone. She would prepare 
another, more speedy in its results. The first letter 
would cause Eva’s return to Duvall Glen ; the second 
would make her the bitter enemy of her daughter. 
So reasoned the heartless matron as she set about 
preparing letter number two, which was written in 
the same hand and with Delia’s signature appended 
thereto. 

While Mrs. Logan was busily engaged in this 
nefarious business, it occurred to Delia that she had 
not destroyed her brother’s letter. With nervous 
haste, she repaired to her own room and unlocked 
the desk where she had placed it for safe-keeping. 
The letter was gone! The envelope was sealed. There 
were no visible signs indicating that her desk had 
been entered — nothing at all 1 Yet the letter was 
gone I It was her mother who had -purloined the 
letter — she had not a doubt of this. Nor had she a 
doubt for what purpose. She could not accuse her 
own mother of such baseness without doing herself 
a greater wrong. No, she would remain silent. She 
had learned to suffer in silence. She could bear a 


248 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


great deal now, but how she pitied Eva, upon whom 
this blow must fall with crushing effect ! Thus were 
three noble lives made wretched to gratify the whim 
of a selfish woman and the caprice of a soulless fop. 


At last the evening of the party arrived. It was 
arranged that Delmont should call for Mrs. Logan 
and Delia and drive them to Temple Mansion in his 
elegant carriage, the finest turn-out in the city. If 
Mrs. Logan was delighted with the thought, the 
same might be said of her prospective son-in-law, 
who was strangely infatuated with the Logans and 
never so happy as when in their presence. 

At last the carriage, drawn by two magnificent 
horses and driven by a coachman dressed in livery, 
came in sight. Mrs. Logan clapped her hands with 
childish delight. 

“ What a magnificent fellow Otho is, to be sure ! 
Don’t you think so, my dear?” 

Oh, mamma, we have not time to discuss that 
matter now,” said Delia, rising from her seat and 
turning away from the open window. 

Mrs. Logan greeted the young man with every 
demonstration of delight, but Delia’s reception was 
that of studied indifference, intensified by a freezing 
hauteur peculiarly her own. It would have been 
cruel had it not been so well deserved. 

Delmont felt hurt, and showed it in his manner. 
A great devil rose in his heart, but he choked down 
the angry, revengeful feeling as best he could. 
When he assisted the ladies into the carriage he said 
to Mrs. Logan, with an effort to appear light-hearted 
and gay : 


'I 


I ■ THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 249 

I 

! “ What a dashing widow you would make, if Mr. 

j Logan should fall overboard and get drowned." 

I Mrs. Logan laughed one of her rippling, silvery 
j laughs.- She was pleased and flattered by the foolish 
j compliment. . 

j Delmont looked at Delia. Not the shadow of a 
I smile relieved the melancholy sadness of her pale, 

I handsome face. 

I Eva Duvall sprang to meet her friend, Delia 
Logan. “You are looking very lovely, my dear,’’ 
gazing fondly into her friend’s face, “ but you are 
not cheerful ! I would have you the gayest of the 
gay to-night. I mean to introduce you to several 
distinguished people 'whom I shall expect you to 
entertain — or at least assist me in entertaining. 
They are strangers, and Minnie, dear girl, is so shy 
of strangers. I shall have to depend on you, mainly ; 
so please look as gay and cheerful as you can. One 
of' the strangers is young, handsome and gay, and 
quite interesting ’’ 

Delia was delighted. This would afford an excuse 
for not allowing Delmont, the hateful Satyr, to 
monopolize her company. 

“You may depend upon me, dear," she added, 
“ I will assist you to the very best of my poor 
ability." 

“ Thanks ! a thousand thanks ! " and Eva kissed 
her friend and led her to a small group consisting of 
the Temples, Allan Early and Felix Parker. Delia 
found the gentlemen very agreeable, especially young 
Early, who was very assiduous in his attentions, 
all the more so as Eva had introduced Delia as her 
dearest and best friend. It was a relief to Eva as 


250 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


well as Delia, giving the former an opportunity which 
might have bfeen otherwise lacking of devoting her 
attention mainly to her real lover, Sidney Walton, 
who had looked exceedingly blue when introduced 
to young Early, for he had heard a great deal of the 
young man and always dreaded him as his only dan- 
gerous rival. 

When Otho Delmont entered the room he cast a 
furtive glance up and down the hall until his eyes 
fell upon Sidney Waltpn, who was conversing at the 
time with Minnie Temple. When their eyes met, 
the young aristocrat frowned visibly, as much as 
to say: “What, you here?” Walton met his stare 
with a look of calm, dignified contempt, and would 
soon have forgotten the man and the sinister look 
had it not been repeated over and over again. Wal- 
ton had never spoken a dozen words to Delmont, 
for he disliked the man exceedingly from the mo- 
ment they first met. His rudeness on this occasion 
was wholly without cause or provocation, and, smart- 
ing under the ogling, impudent gaze of this well-bred 
ruffian, he resolved to have his revenge. He would 
dance with Delia Logan. When he invited the 
young lady to dance, her mother and Delmont 
looked daggers at “the presumptuous rustic,” but 
Delia accepted the invitation, nevertheless, but me- 
chanically, as though she had no other reason for 
doing so than the desire to appear civil to one whom 
she esteemed a gentleman. The feeling was mutual. 
Indeed Walton would not have offered to dance at 
all, but for the desire to goad Delmont. 

Young Early had seen but little of Eva, though he 
had come to the city wholly for her sake. She had 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


251 


! but recently excused herself from taking a walk in 
'! the garden, saying that some other time would do as 
I well. Wonder if she would refuse Walton, should 
' he make a similar request? The answer to this 
l| question came all too soon fof his own peace of mind. 

■' Growing tired of the ball room, he made the same 
proposition to Miss Temple, who, either from choice, 
or from a desire to honor her father’s gu®st, con- 
sented. 

They were seated under an orange tree, from the 
! branches of which hung several Chinese lanterns, 

, when they heard footsteps along the main gravel 
‘ walk. The lanterns rendered every object in the 
garden distinctly visible. The jealous heart of Allan 
I Early beat fast and furious when he saw the object 
of his true, earnest, boyish love pass along the walk 
leaning upon the arm of his rival, Sidney Walton. 
He could not hear a word they said — they were con- 
versing in an undertone — but there was no mistaking 
the truth — they were lovers. 

There was a favorite spot in the garden where 
Sidney Walton and Eva Duvall had previously spent 
many happy hours, and to this trysting-place they 
now repaired. The moon poured a flood of light 
upon the branches overhead, while the paper lanterns 
illumed the white shell walks and the lovely flower- 
beds radiantly beautiful in the soft yet perfect light 
^ which rendered almost every color visible to the eye. 
The music of the band -could be distinctly heard, 
playing a Strauss waltz, “ German Hearts,” and the 
soft, mellow notes sounded yet sweeter in the dis- 
tance. It was a delightful scene, and a moment of 
supreme bliss to the lovers. 


252 


THE BA TTLE OP LIFE. 


Walton felt that he ought to make sure of the love 
of Eva Duvall — sure of hii, own happiness. Why- 
should he delay ? Others were striving for the prize. 
It would never do to yield an inch of vantage ground. 
He would this night put an impassable barrier be- 
tween the woman he loved and all his rivafs. Nothing 
but a promise from Eva, that she would be his j 
forever, would satisfy his anxious soul. He asked 
her to be his wife. f 

Eva refused to promise, though she frankly ac- j 
cepted his love and gave him to understand that his . 
affection was warmly reciprocated. He must woo i 
and win her in her own home. She could never 
think of wedding a man unknown to her mother. 

Walton had dreaded this not a little. He at once 
conjured up^in his mind another haughty Southern 
dame, like Mrs. Logan, and the thought was worm- 
wood and gall to his wretched soul. 

Mrs. Logan and Delmont, having much to talk 
about which they did not wish to mention within the 
hearing of others, repaired to a rustic seat in the 
garden, where the various scenes of the entertainment 
were canvassed with much interest by both. Young 
Walton was the principal theme of this mid-night 
interview. Where and how had he acquired such 
excellent breeding? His dress was faultless; his 
manner above criticism. His dancing was as good 
as the best. He had gone through the perplexing 
evolutions and giddy whirls of a complicated German 
waltz that was even new and difficult to Delmont 
himself, and without a blunder. Mrs. Logan was 
forced to admit that the young man was capable of 
holding his position in society. The only way to 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


253 

put him down was to disgrace him in the eyes of 
those who felt disposed to favor his pretentions. She 
had already sprung one trap, she said, and it was 
working finely. She intended this night to spring 
trap number two, to be followed by trap number 
three at an early day, the last being the climax of 
her cunningly devised plot. She told her Fidus 
Achates that Amos Walton, the father of Sidney, had 
died a dishonorable death ; had been murdered in a 
drunken row, and hinted that it would be a good 
idea to impart this information, in a delicate way, to 
Min‘nie Temple, Eva Duvall’s friend and constant 
companion. “ I see young Early is here to-night,” 
continued the officious matron. “ He is frantically 
jealous, almost crazy, over certain anonymous letters 
I sent him. That was trap number one. You see, 
the Duvalls are bent and determined that Eva shall 
marry Early. Both families are very aristocratic, 
and Eva and Allan Early have been almost raised 
together. The young man is desperately in love 
with Miss Duvall, and until she came to the city, it 
was understood by both parties that Eva loved him 
and would ^marry him. I think she will yet marry 
Early, but not until she has teased him to her heart’s 
content. I think she is only flirting with Walton, 
but as to Delia, I am sorry to say the case* is quite 
different. She actually loves Walton, or thinks -she 
does. When Delia and Eva get together they mag- 
nify the young man into a demi-god. The fact that 
he is poor and obscure only increases their admira- 
tion for him. The friendship existing between’^Eva 
and Delia must be broken up. This is trap number 
two,” and she held up between her jeweled fingers a 


254 


THE BA TTLE OF' LIFE. | 

letter. You see, I can counterfeit Delia’s hand to 
perfection. This letter, which I intend to drop here 
in the garden, has Delia’s name signed to it. It is 
an ingenious forgery. If Eva really loves young 
Walton, this letter will cause her to hate and shun 
my daughter ever after,” and as they turned to enter 
the mansion Mrs. Logan tore the end of the envel- 
ope, threw the letter on one side of the walk and the 
cover on the other. Delmont felt deeply interested 
in this plot. He said to himself, mentally : What 

a grand woman this is to be sur«. She is capable of 
anything that requires judgment, prudence and skill. 

I shall leave the whole matter to her. I am no in- 
triguant ; she is mistress of the art.” 

True to his promise, Delmont hastened to impart 
the information confided to him by Mrs. Logan in 
their recent interview. Engaging Minnie Temple in | 
conversation, he said : 

“Tell me the name of the pretty looking blonde 
who danced the last set with our mutual friend, 
Sidney Walton ? ” 

“Why, you surprise me! I thought you knew 
Dora Somers; she has been in society for nearly 
two years.” 

“I can’t help that, Miss Temple; I do not remem- 
ber ever to have seen the young lady before. She 
is very pretty, however— has eyes and hair like you.” 

“I do not like flattery, Mr. Delmont,” said Min-* 
nie, with a gentle toss of the head and a pouting of 
the lips that only amused hq* companion. 

“ Indeed 1 Was I flattering anybody? ” 

“No, but you were trying to.” 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


255 


f' 

i! I was not aware of the fact. I had not thought 
it possible to flatter any one so lovely as — Miss 
i Somers.” 

‘‘ How provokingly witty you are to-night.” 

“ I do not like flattery, Miss Temple.” 

“ I am glad of it,” pretending not to notice the 
drift of his remark, “ for I never flatter any one.” 

Are you right sure you did not flatter Mr. Walton 
to-night ? ” 

“ Sure, very sure.” 

“ He is good-looking; don’t you think so?” 

I “Yes.” 

“ An agreeable gentleman, socially, I am told.” 

“ Quite so, I think.” 

“ I have not met the gentleman very often, but as 
far as I have been able to cultivate an acquaintance, 
I have found him clever and gentlemanly. There is 
no nonsense about him. I like his frank, manly 
nature.” 

j “ Papa and mamma like his company very much, 
and cousin Eva is very fond of his society. I was 
never in his company much until to-night. I find 
j him quite agreeable.” 

“ By the way, did you ever notice how sad he looks 
I when not conversing or listening to the conversation 
of others ? ” 

“Yes, and cousin Eva and I were talking about it 
just the other day..” 

“ Poor fellow ! I wish it was different, but he has 
a heavy load to carry. If you knew the cause of his 
habitual sadness, you would not wonder at it. The 
only wonder would be that he should appear cheer- 
ful at all.” 


256 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE, 


** You surprise me! What could have happened 
to him? Perhaps I ought not to ask, as it cannot 
concern me in the least. I only wish, as you say,| 
that it was different, that he was happy, for I respect 
him very much indeed.” 

“ You say it does not concern you ; I say it does. 
We are all concerned, or should be, for our friends. , 
Mr. Walton is not only my friend, but yours, and the 
friend of 3^our family. His misfortune is no secret. 
He may not like to' speak of it himself; it is quite 
natural that he should not, but it is no secret, never- 
theless. It does not in the least reflect on his per- : 
sonal honor. If it did, I should be the last indi- ‘ 
vidual in the world to speak of it; but it renders 
him miserable all the same,” and Delmont paused, 
waiting for Minnie Temple to speak. 

I gather from your remarks that you consider it 
no breach of confidence, no offense to your friend, to 
mention the cause of this trouble. What, then, 
causes this habitual sadness of which we were 
speaking? ” 

His father, who was somewhat of a rowdy, I 
believe — a gambler, it is said — was murdered a few 
months ago in a grocery row by one of his victims. 
Is not that enough to make an-honorable, high- 
minded young man sad for a season ? ” 

“ Indeed it is. Are you right sure of this, Mr. 
Delmont?” 

“ As sure. Miss Temple, as that I am alive to- 
night.” 

Eva Duvall had so far almost ignored Allan Early, 
excusing herself in a pleasant way, saying that she 
was home-folks and could not possibly interest him 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


^57 

half so much as Delia Logan and Minnie Temple, 

I and others whom she did not name, hinting that her 
I time and attentions were due alike to all her guests, 

I she being expected to do the honors of the occasion. 

This excuse would have satisfied the young man. 
perhaps, had it not been for the scene in the garden; 
he would give the young lady another opportunity, 
however, to show her preference. Accordingly, 
when supper was announced, he offered to escort 
Miss Duvall to the table; but she pretended not to 
notice him, took the arm of Sidney Walton and 
marched off before his eyes, leaving him over- 
whelmed with mortification and confusion. He en- 
tered the dining-room alone and took a seat nearly 
opposite Eva and her lover, too enraged and desper- 
ate to care whether he concealed his mortification or 
not. 

Delia Logan would have gladly relieved the young 
man from this embarrassing situation, but he did not, 
in his confusion, notice her, and it so happened that 
she was fated to occupy a seat next to her hated 
lover, Otho Delmont, and directly opposite to Eva 
and Walton. The ladies exchanged a smile of 
friendly greeting, but Delmont stared contemptu- 
ously at Walton, who fully interpreted the look, and 
! returned it with interest, but it annoyed him not a 
! little. 

Delmont tried to engage Delia in conversation, 

. but only succeeded in eliciting a few monosyllables, 

I sharply enunciated. 

I He next turned his attention to Early. After 
I ogling that individual until he had excited his anger 
land contempt, he said ; 

\ 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


258 

‘‘Are you not lonely, this evening, Mr. Early?” 

“Not in the least, Mr. Delmont,” said Early, with- 
out a moment’s hesitation, and with great compo- 
sure, “not in the least, thank you. The poet says: 
‘ The fool always enlivens the feast’ It is impossi- 
ble to feel lonely in your company.” 

Those who heard this happy retort fell to laughing 
at Delmont, who was so confused that he did not 
recover himself for a full half hour. Delia was 
greatly amused and longed to join in the laugh, but 
she observed her mother’s frown and assumed a rigid 
indifference. 

It was the custom at Temple Mansion to serve 
wine to both gentlemen arid ladies, and in the gen- 
eral whirl of joyous excitement, Walton had not 
thought of the possibility of being thus served, and 
the first admonition he had of the fact was the filling 
of his own and Miss Duvall’s glasses. 

The situation was painful to him in the extreme. 
He knew this jolly crowd could not appreciate his 
scruples, no more could he violate his vow, three 
times repeated, not to touch intoxicating liquors. 
An explanation, or even an attempt at such, would 
expose him to ridicule; yet not to drink would be 
just as bad. 

The gay assemblage, male and female, were al- 
ready drinking healths and exchanging sentiments 
and friendly greetings, but he and Miss Duvall alone 
had not touched their wine. 

Miss Duvall took in the situation at a glance. She 
saw that it was against Walton’s conviction of right 
to drink wine, and, beckoning the waiter, she pointed 
to the glasses. The well-tutored domestc under- 


THE BATTLE. OP LIFE, 


stood the order, though given entirely in panto- 
mime, and obeyed mechanically, but only in part. 
He removed Miss Duvall’s glass, but left Walton’s, 
who in his confusion had not indicated his wish either 
by word or gesture. 

This only made matters worse. Delmont now saw 
an opportunity of turning his rival into ridicule, and 
raising his glass, said : 

“ Miss Duvall, permit me to include you in my 
toast, as no one else seems mindful of your pres- 
ence : Here is to your good health : may peace, joy 
and fortune crown all your hopes ; and here is confu- 
sion to the man who lacks the manhood and gallan 
try to do honor to woman under any and all circum- 
stances.” 

This was a center shot, an(i all eyes were now 
turned upon Walton. The blood mounted to his 
face. His rage almost gained the mastery. He felt 
that he would give ten years of his life for the priv- 
ilege of knocking Delmont down, but not a word 
‘ escaped his lips. His flushed face suddenly became 
I pale as death with rage, and he trembled from sheer 
i passion in spite of himselfl 

Eva Duvall felt the insult almost as keenly, but 
j with a woman’s wit she saw a way out of the dilem- 
“ ma, and at the risk of appearing bold and forward, 
S she would strike back and give this ruffian in broad- 
i cloth a Roland for his Oliver. 

! Pointing toward the glass, that had not yet been 
I touched, she said in a stage whisper; 

** Pass me the wine, please.” 

Walton obeyed mechanically. 

All eyes were now fixed upon Miss Duvall. Her 


26 o 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


dark eyes flashed with anger and excitement. Rais- 
ing the glass in her jeweled fingers, she said in a clear, 
ringing voice : 

“ Here’s to the woman or man who has the cour- 
age to refuse when tempted to drink. Such a woman 
is a credit to her sex and an ornament to society ; 
such a man is an honor to his race, and may always 
be trusted. Here’s confusion to the man or woman 
who wantonly scoffs at the conscientious scruples of 
better men and women,” and she drank the wine, 
apparently oblivious to the applause which greeted 
this well-timed sentiment. 


CHAPTER XL. 

THE LETTER. 

“ Assassins of character, as of life, strike in the dark.** 

qJj\ VA DUVALL had hardly closed her eyes to 
JQ/ sleep the night of the ball. It was late in the 
day before she ventured down, and when she 
did it was with a feeling of languid indifference. 

Minnie had been up for hours, singing, laughing 
and skipping from room to room in her gleeful humor. 

She met Eva with a smile and a kiss, saying she 
was sorry, very sorry, she had not been up earlier ; 
that she had had such a nice stroll in the garden, all 
by her lone self, “and see,” said she, holding up a 
nice boquet of flowers, “ I gathered those roses Tor 
you t(^ give to Mr. Early, and don’t you think he 
told us all good-bye and left without saying a word 
about you ! Did you ever hear of the like ! after 
coming all the way from Duvall Glen to see you, too V* 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


261 

Oh, Minnie dear, do not vex me ! I have an 
awful headache, and don’t care the snap of my finger 
what Mr. Early did. If you desired him to have the 
flowers you should have given them to him yourself. 
If I were to gather a boquet for the young * Middie ' 
I should select a more significant nosegay than this. 
And so Mr. Early departed without mentioning my 
name, did he ? ” 

“Yes.” 

“Well, joy go with him.” 

“ I have another item of news ; may be that will 
interest you.” 

“ If it concerns Mr. Early or the party I am fear- 
ful it will not, at least not now.” 

“ It is not about Mr. Early or the party. I found 
a letter in the garden. It is addressed to you; was 
dropped there last night. The envelope was in one 
place and the letter in another. It is all a mystery 
to me ; perhaps you can understand it better,” and 
Minnie placed the strange letter in Eva’s hand. Go- 
ing to her room. Miss Duvall bolted the door and 
seated herself to read the singular document, which 
had been torn across, so as to indicate the writer 
had relented and tried to destroy it. That portion 
which fell into the hands of Eva read as follows ; 

Eva : It is my painful duty to inform you — I almost shad- 
iest you should attribute the act to malice or jealousy 
is not only unworthy of your love, but of your 
the son of a murderer ! but Eva, dear the 
ung man’s father, Captain Walton, is 
ther left a large sum of money, for 
ed your brother at college many 
you should have met and 
worse. Knowing all, 
spect. 

lA Logan, 


262 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 

infamous, wicked plot!” exclaimed Eva, 
when she had finished reading. “ I would never 
have thought Delia Logan capable of such baseness. 
I will never speak to her again — never! ” 

She pretended to Minnie that the letter amounted 
to nothing. It was only a practical joke, such as 
Miss Logan frequently played on her friends, and so 
the matter was dropped between them. 

It was several days before Delia and Eva again 
met. Miss Logan and her mother had entered one of 
the fashionable stores of the city. A moment later, 
Eva and Mrs. Temple entered the same shop.^ All 
unconscious of having given offense, Delia advanced 
toward her friend, saying : 

How fortunate ! I was just wishing, longing to 
see you ! I have — ” She paused suddenly, for she 
discovered a fierce, defiant frown on the face of Eva 
Duvall, who quickly turned away'from her old friend 
in the most haughty and insulting manner. 

Delia did not ask for an explanation. She had 
never wronged Miss Duvall by word or deed. Why 
should she apologize or ask pardon ? The apology 
was due to her. 

Mrs. Logan’s keen eye took in the whole scene. 
Her letter had produced precisely the results she had 
hoped for. Henceforth it was only necessary to pre- 
vent all explanations between the two — an easy mat- 
ter, now that the young ladies were bitter enemies. 

The work was only half done, however. Eva and 
Delia were now enemies, but it was plain that Eva 
did not hate Sidney Walton, nor doubt him in the 
least. Mrs. Logan had watched the effect of the 
letter very closely, and had put Delmont on the 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE, 


263 


lookout, too, lest the game might escape. He re- 
ported that Miss Duvall had, gone with Walton 
to the theatre but a few evenings after the scene at 
the store. This was proof positive that her letter 
had failed to produce the full effect she had hoped. 
Eva Duvall still loved and trusted Sidney Walton. 

“Wait; all will be well in the end,” was the as- 
suring words of the designing matron, as she took 
friendly leave of her daughter’s officious lover. 

Mrs.' Logan did not confide all her plans, all her 
hopes and fears, to Delmont or to any orie else 
living. The subtle-minded are ever suspicious of 
others. She still consoled Delmont with promises, 
but had given no reasons why he should longer in- 
dulge the one fond hope of his vain, selfish heart. 
Mrs. Logan was now waiting and hoping for results 
from another quarter — from the home of Eva Duvall. 
She expected, and for the best of reasons, that Mrs. 
Duvall would write for Eva to return home, and that 
speedily. 

As to Mrs. Duvall, she was in part prepared for 
just such news. She had learned, long before, from 
Mrs. Early and her daughter, that Eva had made the 
acquaintance of a steamboat clerk, by the name of 
Walton, on her second trip to New Orleans, and had 
appeared very fond of his .society. Nothing more, 
however, was said or thought of the matter — at least 
not until Mrs. Duvall had received Delia’s letter, or 
the letter which purported to corae from that young 
lady. Mrs. Duvall had only laughed at the fears of 
Mrs. Early and her officious, meddlesome daughter, 
but this was a matter of more serious import. 

It had been arranged for Allan Early to spend the 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


264 

winter in New Orleans^ and return with Eva in the 
spring, but the cool treatment he received from Miss 
Duvall had changed his plans entirely. He returned 
to the plantation a few days after leaving, but did 
not open his lips, in explanation, to any one. It set 
the women to gossiping at a lively rate, however 
which so disgusted the young man that he soon left 
home, saying that he had promised to join a party of 
friends for a buffalo hunt in the wilds of Western 
Texas. They need not look for his return for several 
months. He had not mentioned Miss Duvall’s 
name, but it was understood by all that he had re- 
ceived the Tnitten. 

Mrs. Duvall liked the young man all the more for 
his silence, and still hoped that Eva might have the 
good sense to marry a man so worthy of being her 
husband. 

Soon after Mrs. Duvall received the letter inform- 
ing her of her daughter s unfortunate infatuation, she 
wrote to her cousin Temple to send Eva home at 
once. If alone, her cousin was requested to place 
the young lady in the care of Captain Lewis, whom 
they all knew and esteemed very highly. The true 
reason for desiring Eva’s return was not mentioned. 
Mrs. Duvall was too well-bred to gossip even in 
writing to a kinsman. She'was unwell, she said, and 
very lonely. She very much regretted the necessity 
of recalling Eva from the society of those she loved 
so well, but it was a daughter’s duty to contribute to 
the pleasures of home -life, and a mother’s right to 
expect this and her privilege to command such at- 
tention. 

It so happened that the Quitman left a day sooner 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


I: 

.1 


265 


I 

j. 

■i 


1: 


than usually, and Miss Duvall missed the opportunity 
of returning under the kind protection of Captain 
Lewis. She must now go on a strange boat or wait 
several weeks for the return of the Quitman. Her 
mother’s letter was urgent. She'^sked her cousin’s 
advice, and he proposed sending her on the next 
steamer, and suggested Sidney Walton as an escort. 
The proposition was agreeable to Miss Duvall, and 
Walton gladly consented to see the young lady safe- 
ly home. 

All unconscious, both of them, of the subtle trap 
of Mrs. Logan, they walked straightdnto it. 


My mother, Mr. Walton ! ” 

The young man stood face to face with the only 
individual in all the world who had the least cause 
. to hate and abhor him. 

It was a surprise to Mrs. Duvall ; a moment of 
supreme- but painful interest. She did not speak ; 
did not offer a word of friendly greeting. 

! To Walton, the scene was too embarrassing for 
words to describe — let the imagination of the reader 
I portray his feelings. 

Eva was shocked, stunned as if by a blow. 

Mrs. Duvall had expected her daughter earlier — 
was not looking for her at all when she came. 

A servant had announced Miss Eva and a gentle- 
I man, and almost breathless with excitement.and de- 
; light, Mrs. Duvall rushed into the -drawing-room, 
expecting to behold none but familiar faces ; intent 
only with the maternal desire of holding her child to 
i her bosom with a loving kiss of welcome. 

** Mr. Walton is — ” but Eva did not finish the sen- 
f tence. 


266 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE, 


Mrs. Duvall paused — suddenly threw up both her 
hands — gasped as though the effort to breathe would 
be her last — turned deadly pale — her body swaying 
to and fro, as though she was about to faint and fall 
at the feet of Waltbn, who stood silent, awed, hor- 
rified at this strange, unlooked-for reception. Un- 
able to control her feelings, and being too weak from 
momentary excitement to- stand erect, Mrs. Duvall 
fell listless, almost lifeless, into her seat, clasping her 
hands rigidly in_her frantic but unavailing effort to 
appear calm. 

Eva was terribly bewildered at her mother’s strange 
conduct. She had never witnessed anything of the 
kind before. 

What could it mean ? • Falling upon her knees, 
and taking her mother’s clasped hands between her 
own, Eva sobbed out : 

“ Mother ! dear mother ! what’s the matter ! Do 
tell me ! what’s the matter ! ” 

Mrs. Duvall, by a desperate effort, rose from her 
seat, and in a husky voice said : 

“ Come with me ! ” and she led the terrified girl 
from the room. As they passed out, Mrs. Duvall 
said to Walton — who had stood all the while as silent 
and impassive as a statue — her voice scarcely above 
a whisper, and her look so unnatural and terrified as 
to haunt his memory foryears : 

“ You will please excuse us, Mr. Walton, for a few 
minutes, /will return and explain all.” 

Reaching another room, Mrs. Duvalf said, in a 
voice stern and haughty : 

“ Eva, why did you bring this man under my roof 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


267 

without warning me of your purpose I have a 
right, a mother’s right, to know with whom you asso- 
ciate. You might well have spared me this painful 
scene. You have opened afresh an old wound that 
but for the mercy of God might have long since 
proved fatal ! He is the very image of his father!” 
she murmured, pacing up and down the room. ^‘No 
two were ever more alike.” 

“ Dear mamma 1 ” said Eva, again throwing her 
I arms about her mother’s neck, “ do tell me what this 
I all means ! what have I done ? what has Sidney 

j Walton, or his father, done to offend you ? I am 

sure you have no cause to hate Sidney Walton.” 

“ No cause?'' and Mrs. Duvall looked her daugh- 
ter fiercely in the face. “ Eva, do you know this 
man ? Do you know aught of his parentage ? ” 

“ I know Sidney Walton, mamma,” said Eva, 
firmly, and I knovu'\vQ. is a gentleman. Of his pa- 
rentage, I know nothing.” 

“ I am truly glad you are ignorant of the painful 
truth,” she said, seating herself in an arm-chair, with 
Eva at her side. “ Had you known all, your con- 
duct would have been wholly inexcusable. It now 
becomes my painful duty to impart to you a terrible 
secret: I knew this young man’s father years ago. 
He was then a student of Yale College. I lived with 
my parents, in New Haven, and this man’s father 
- boarded in my uncle’s family. Your brother, Pren- 
tiss Duvall, was a student of the same college, and 
for the tim^ a member of my father’s family. You 
remember his horrible death ? butchered in cold 
blood as he was returning from his club room late at 
night ? ” 

Yes.” 


268 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


“Amos Walton, the father of this young man, 
murdered your brother ! “ 

“ Oh, mamma ! are you sure of this ? have you 
any proof that he was guilty of that terrible crime ?” 

“Alas, yes! Read this letter,” and she handed 
Eva the letter which John Logan had written to his 
sister, also the letter of explanation and warning 
which accompanied it. 

Eva, without looking at the letter, crushed it in 
her hand, saying : 

“ Mamma, who wrote this letter ? ” 

“ It is from your dearest friend, Delia Logan.” 

“A plot! a base plot!” said Eva, tossing the letter 
aside with scorn. It is all as clear to me as daylight. 
That wicked, vicious, jealous woman is imposing on 
you, in the same manner she recently tried to de- 
ceive me ! ” 

“This is no plot, Eva; the information comes 
from quite a different source,” and she stooped and 
picked up the letter, which she again handed to her 
daughter. “ Read this letter. The writer is not an 
enemy. The letter is from John Logan, who affirms, 
over and over again, that he iS the friend, the bosom 
friend, of young Walton.” 

This put a new phase on the whole matter. Eva 
knew very well that John Logan was the friend of 
Sidney Walton. She read the letter through from 
beginning to end — read the hypocritical comments 
of the officious go-between, written in the guise of 
friendly warning. When she had finished, the letter 
fell from her nerveless’grasp — she sat as one stupified 
by a horrible, painful revelation. “ It is true,” she 
murmured, “ I have not a doubt of it,” 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE, 269 

**Alas! too true. How unfortunate, my dear, 
that you should have met this man. I thank God 
that he has shielded us from a worse fate. What a 
terrible mistake it would have been had you married 
this man, or fallen in love, even?” added Mrs. Du- 
vall, with a searching look. 

Mother, I have never deceived you in my life; 
I have never acted the least deceitful — never will ! 
L love Sidney Walton better than L do my own life ! ” 
and she fell upon her knees at her mother’s feet and 
wept convulsively. 

Instead of speaking kindly to Eva, Mrs. Duvall 
rose to her feet, and taking her daughter by both 
hands, raised her from a kneeling posture, saying : 

“ Come, I will have none of this ! I am not to be 
moved or softened by your foolish tears. I know 
my duty to the living and the dead. I shall go to 
the drawing-room and dismiss this man from my 
house forever! ” and, trembling with rage and mor- 
tification, Mrs. Duvall started to fulfil her threat. 
Eva sprang between her mother and the door, say- 
ing in a voice that trembled in spite of herself: 

“ Mamma, please hear me for just one moment I ” 

“ A truce to all this nonsense ! ” said Mrs. Duvall. 
‘‘ I have had enough of it. I know my duty and 
shall do it, cost what it will. Were this man worthy 
of your love, I might listen to your plea; being un- 
worthy, he shall go, and this must be the last of it.” 

Eva saw that persuasion would avail nothing. 
She would adopt her mother’s tactics; she would be 
just as firm and resolute. Mother, I must see Sid- 
ney Walton before you insult and drive him from the 
place. His coming here was through kindness to 


2/0 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


me; he even neglected his own business for my 
sake. You have already treated him as you would 
have treated a pirate. I suppose you intend to be 
still more harsh in your next interview. Ilet me say 
to you, in plain words, Sidney Walton is a geritleman 
and shall be treated as such. He has always treated 
me well ; he shall never leave this place feeling that 
I am a party to this unmerited, unkind reception, 
which you insist is no more than he deserves. Sup- 
pose his father did kill my brother? Does that 
make Sidney Walton a criminal? He is even ig- 
norant of his father’s guilt, and he shall never know 
it from you or me. What was Prentiss Duvall to 
you, more than to me, his own sister, that you 
should assume to punish those whom I can cheerfully 
forgive ? ” 

What was he to me ? ” said Mrs. Duvall, trembling 
with emotion, “everything — he was all the world 
to me ! ” and she turned aside, and opening a pri- 
vate drawer took therefrom an ivory casket, the 
contents of which had always been a mystery to 
Eva, and now, for the first time, was opened and ex- 
posed to her sight. 

“ Do you see this?” said Mrs. Duvall, holding a 
plain gold ring between her thumb and fore-finger. 
“This was an engagement ring, presented to me by 
Prentiss Duvall. We were to have been married 
the year he graduated. He was the only man I ever 
loved. I respected your father ; I honored, almost 
worshipped him; but I never loved but once! 
Your father knew this; he knew my heart thor- 
oughly, and loved me because I loved his son. I 
loved him because he was the father of the only 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


271 


I man I ever loved. I spent the bulk of my fortune 
in the Vain effort to avenge the death of Prentiss 
Duvall. Your father was laboring to accomplish the 
same purpose. When he discovered this, he became 
infatuated, and begged, implored me to marry him, 
and out of sympathy and respect, I consented. As 
to this man, Sidney Walton, it is not my wish or 
purpose that you shall ever speak to him again — 
nay, I positively forbid it. I will promise not to 
offend the young man any more than my cold re- 
ception has already wounded him. I will get rid of 
the trouble as quietly as possible ; but, mark my 
words, Eva, all communication between you and 
i this man has ceased from this hour.” 

I Eva rose from her seat and calmly said : 

; I must see and speak to Mr. Walton before he 
> leaves the place.” 

“ Once more,” said Mrs. Duvall, ‘‘ I warn you not 
to disobey my command,” and she seized hold of 
Eva, saying : ” Do you suppose that I 

will yield to the silly whims of a foolish girl? 
Never. If you dare to enter that room, I will fol- 
low at your heels and upbraid this man in your 
presence. I will tell him that his father was a mur- 
derer and ought to have been hanged ! ” 

Eva knew that her mother meant to make good 
this threat, and she desired above all things to spare 
her lover such a painful scene. Looking earnestly 
into her mother’s face she said : 

“ Will you promise not to allude to this murder if 
I will forego my purpose of seeing and speaking to 
Sidney Waltonf ” 

Yes, I will promise,” said Mrs. Duvall, the angry 


2^2 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE, 


frown on her face turning to something like a smile, 
“ and a Duvall never speaks falsely.” 

“Go, then,” said Eva, “and discharge your self- 
imposed duty, but, remember, you are walking over 
your daughter’s heart; crushing, as best you can, 
the only love she ever felt for man, or ever can feel ! ” 


CHAPTER XLI. 


DRIVEN TO. DESPERATION. 


He is not worthy of the honeycomb, that shuns the hive, be- 
cause the bees have stings.” . 

/ I \ HE return of Philip Logan to the bosom of his 
family was usually hailed with delight by 
Mrs. Logan and Delia, but of late there was a 
cloud of gloom upon the household, and good cheer 
was fast becoming the exception not the rule of this 
proud but impecunious family. 

Affairs had reached a crisis when Logan returned 
to the city to remain a few days with his family. 
He had a long talk with Delmont, the theme of con- 
versation directly turning upon his prospective mar- 
riage. The young man hinted that he saw no good 
reason why the wedding should be much longer 
delayed. 

Logan promised to arrange the matter with his 
daughter at once, and the men parted well pleased 
with each other, but, at heart, Logan felt many mis- 
givings. He had but a half-heart in this business 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE, 


m 


any way, and would gladly have left the whole mat- 
ter to his wife, but that , arch schemer had already 
. informed him that she could do no more. 

I On the morning of his departure from New Or- 
leans, Philip Logan said : 

“ Delia, I wish to speak with you in private, before I 
go, and now is as good a time, perhaps, as I will have.” 

Trembling with excitement, she quietly rose from 
her seat, and taking his arm, they stepped into an- 
other apartment. When they were alone he said : 

“ Delia, I am a ruined man ! ” 

“Why, \yhat has happened, papa?” 

“ I owe more than I can pay. I am behind with 
my rent, and liable to be thrown out of doors any 
day. You and your mother have never been used 
to poverty. What is to become of you, God only 
j knows!” 

’ “ Have no concern for me, dear papa ! /can earn 

my own living. If this is all, cheer up. You shall 
soon see what a smart girl I am. I am tired of this 
indolent existence anyhow; sick and tired of society. 
It will be a real pleasure to earn my own living, and, 
besides, I can help you to take care of mamma. 
Just let me try and see if I don’t.” 

! Logan did not speak for several minutes. At last 
he said : 

“There is but one prudent, practical way for you 
to help yourself, and in so doing, you can assist your 
parents without humiliating them. You are aware 
of the fact that Otho Delmont has asked your hand 
in marriage. Your mother and I think it an excel- 
lent offer. He is very rich, highly accomplished and 
loves you almost to adoration,” 

^7 


^74 


THE BATTLE OL LIFE. 


Delia did not speak for several seconds. Logan 
sat watching every expression of her sad face. It 
was a moment of severest trial to both. At last she 
said : 

“ I know that you have set your heart on this 
marriage ; I know that mother is also determined that I 
shall wed Otho Delmont. Would you make me mis- 
erable for life? I do not love Otho Delmont; it is 
impossible that I ever should. I would hate him all 
the days of my life.” 

“Delia, this is all school-girl nonsense. You 
will soon iearn to love Delmont; I am sure you 
will.” 

“ Never.” 

“ Do you refuse ?' Is this final? irrevocable?” 

“As the laws of the Medes and the Persians.” 

“Then I disown you forever!” 

Delia, pale and trembling from excitement, but 
firm and resolute, replied : 

“Is this a decree of banishment? Do you mean 
to drive me from your house and home ? ” 

“Yes, go! Pve no children! I was a fool to 
think so ! I commend you to the love and tender 
care of your treacherous brother! I hate and loathe 
the sight of you ! ” 

Sidney Walton waited long and impatiently for the 
return of Eva Duvall. He had hoped that she would 
soon return and explain to his' bewildered mind the 
true cause of Mrs. Duvall’s strange conduct. 

Eva had gone to her room, but not with that feel- 
ing pf gratitude and pleasure she had’hoped and ex- 
pected. She was keenly alive to the painful dilemma 


2/5 


THE BATTLE OE LIFE. 

in which she and her lover were now placed. She 
could not see an inch before her. Sidney Walton 
would go away accusing her, in his heart, of cruel 
neglect, of base ingratitude. What a terrible thought ! 
She wrung herhands and wept. 

At last Mrs. Duvall swept into the room with all 
the dignity and hauteur of a queen. 

Her cold, cynical smile was not a true index of 
her heart, for Mrs. Duvall was strictly honorable, 
even kind, to those whom she recognized as worthy 
of respect ; nor was she treacherous. She had prom- 
ised Eva not to insult her lover, and meant to keep 
her word. Taking a seat, she said in a tone of voice 
pleasant enough to have been agreeable, under less 
painful circumstances : 

“ You are not a native of our State, I believe, Mr. 
Walton ? ” 

' “ Only by adoption, mad^m ; I am from the North.” 

“ From Ohio, I believe.” 

“ Yes, though I have been a citizen of Louisiana 
for a number of years, and had hoped to spend my 
life here.” r 

A brief silence followed, which soon became pain- 
fully embarrassing to both. Walton, not knowing 
I what else to say, remarked : 

“ You have a beautiful home, Mrs. Duvall.” 

‘^Yes; Mr. Early— you have probably met Mr. 
Early in New Orleans ? — ” 

Walton bowed assent. 

“ Mr. Early has traveled extensively in this coun- 
try, yet he persists in saying that Duvall Glen is the 
prettiest place in the United States.” 

** Mr. Early is doubtless correct. I have never 


THE battle of life 


276 

seen a prettier place, and I have traveled consider- 
ably.” 

“ I don’t know,” said Mrs. Duvall, in a tone of 
studied indifference. I doubt not but Mr. Early is 
somewhat partial. People are apt to overrate their 
own homes; at least I am that way inclined, and I 
suppose others possess the same prejudice in favor 
of the spot they call home.” 

“You are doubtless quite correct; however, I did 
not know that Mr. Early owned Duvall Glen. I 
supposed the plantation belonged to you.” 

“ Well, in one sense, yes. Mr. Early’s father owns 
the adjoining plantation, and Allan Early is the pros- 
pective owner of this. It is a grand inheritance for 
one man, but he is worthy of it. My daughter is 
sole heir to this property. What is her’s will belong 
to her husband, of course. Eva and Allan Early are 
to be married in the near future. You will pardon 
me for speaking of family matters to yoiiy a total 
stranger, but it is Eva’s wish that I should explain 
that she is the affianced wife of Allan Early.” 

Walton struggled manfully, but in vain, to conceal 
his feelings. After a painful silence of several min- 
utes, he said : 

“ Did I understand you to say that Miss Duvall 
requested you to inform me that she was engaged to 
Mr. Early ? ” 

“Yes; she said it was plainly her duty to inform 
you of this, but she had not the heart, poor girl ! to 
do so herself. We regret your unfortunate attach- 
ment, Mr. Walton. It pains me more than I have 
words to tell, that you should have loved, and so 
hopelessly, I have always cautioned Eva not to 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE^ 


277 


flirt with gentleman, simply because they interested 
and amused her. It was not right to trifle with the 
; affections of worthy young men beneath her station 
in life. She confesses to me that she has wronged 
I you greatly, and she is now repenting this foolish 
j flirtation in tears. 1 hope you will forgive her, Mr. 

I Walton, and think no more about this ill-advised, 
j, unfortunate attachment, on your part, for which I 
do not blame but only pity you ! ” and the arch 
hypocrite put her handkerchief to her face and pre- 
j tended to shed tears of compassion; playing her 
! part so well that Walton actually believed that she 
i was overwhelmed with sorrow, and before he recov- 
ered his bewildered senses, she sobbed out : 

“It has nearly killed me, this interview, but Eva 
positively refused to see you herself. I hope you 
will forget and forgive the past.” 

( “Mrs. Duvall, I have but one request to make of 
you. It is probably the first and last time that we 
shall ever meet in this world, and I think you can 
well afford to grant me this poor boon ; one act of 
simple justice on your part is all that I ask.” 

“ What do you wish, Mr. Walton ? ” came in fal- 
tering accents from Mrs. Duvall, who had been si- 
lently weeping behind her lace handkerchief. 

“ I wish to speak to Miss Duvall before I take my 
leave.” 

“ I have no objection to such an interview,” said 
j Mrs. Duvall, with an air of sincerity that baffled sus- 
I picion, “but I am fearful that Eva will not see you ; 
I fearful that I shall plead for you in vain.” 

Mrs. Duvall did not return for several minutes, 
and when she did appear her face was flushed and 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


278 

her eyes red and swollen, as though she had been 
violently weeping. In faltering words she informed 
Walton that Eva was firm and resolute in her de- 
termination not to see him. 

“ I accept your explanation, Mrs. Duvall, in good 
faith. I have borne with more than becoming 
patience your taunts, your insinuations leveled at my 
humble station in life. I have never denied or been 
the least ashamed of my poverty; yet I thank you 
for the candid and truthful manner in which you have 
condescended to explain to me your daughter’s en- 
gagement and prospective marriage to Mr. Early. I 
wish her much joy. It is of no consequence in the 
world that she has walked over an honest man’s 
heart to reach the hymenial altar. That I am the 
victim of misplaced love and confidence is all that I 
know, perhaps all that I shall ever know ; but if I 
am 'the victim of a plot, may God forgive those who 
have conspired to injure, perhaps ruin my prospects 
in life,” and he bowed low to Mrs. Duvall and took 
his leave. 

Eva had taken her position at a window fronting 
the main approach to the mansion in the hope of 
seeing Sidney Walton as he was leaving the place. 
She meant to wave her handkerchief to him as a 
signal, but he never looked back. 

Walton returned to New Orleans sad of heart and 
out of patience with all the world. He repaired to 
the office and resumed work, but somehow he had 
lost all interest in business. He was also weary of 
New Orleans ; weary of the society in which he had 
struggled so hard to gain a position. He had reached 
the goal of his ambition only to find it vanity and 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


279 


vexation of spirit. The prize that lured him on ; 
that filled his heart with hope, and nerved him for 
the fierce struggle, vanished upon the very threshold 
of victory. He could not remain in New Orleans 
long without becoming more than ever the theme of 
idle gossip, for the Logans and the Delmonts would 
soon learn that he was no longer in favor with Miss 
Duvall, and gossip would now make more free than 
ever witji his name — which, though unknown to him, 
was closely associated with a great crime for which 
he must suffer, though innocent of all complicity 
therein. He would leave the city, and forever. 
The few remaining days of his sojourn in New Orleans 
were crowded with events of great interest. 

Before leaving, Walton called on his excellent 
friend, Capt. Temple. From him he learned the 
startling news of Delia Logan’s flight from the city. 
She had left under circumstances that caused no 
little uneasiness to her friends. Some affirmed that 
she had secretly* entered a convent; others, that she 
had gone out into the world, to earn her living as a 
teacher or governess ; all agreed, however, that she 
had left hpme on account of a quarrel with her 
parents, who had insisted that she should marry 
Otho Delmont, a man for whom she had frequently 
expressed the most bitteir contempt. Capt. Temple 
was not of those who believed that Delia had 
entered a convent. Miss Logan, he said, was 
finely educated and well calculated to make her 
own living in the world. He believed the young 
lady had sought and obtained a place in view of the 
coming storm which she had doubtless long known 
to be inevitable. 


28 o 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE, 


This was news indeed to Walton. It changed his 
opinion of the young lady as nothing else could. It 
had never occurred to him that she would refuse to 
wed Delmont, for in common with many others he 
had regarded the young lady as being little less 
mercenary than her mother. He had been mistaken 
and longed to express his regret and ask the young 
lady’s pardon. A feeling near akin to the old pas- 
sion, very like the first dream of true love, again 
dawned upon his mind and heart, a feeling, however, 
as transient as all that was pleasurable had ever been 
to the hero of our story. Minnie soon entered the 
parlor, whereupon her father excused himself and 
left the young people alone to talk over the recent 
eventslhat had transpired in their little world, best 
denominated by the word “society.” It was not 
long until both fell to talking of Delia Logan ; of her 
sadden flight from the city, from the home of her 
relatives and friends. Minnie, greatly to the surprise 
of young Walton, spoke of the trouble which had so 
suddenly and effectually alienated the friendship of 
Eva Duvall and Miss Logan. It was natural enough 
for Walton to take an interest in the matter — equally 
•natural for him to enquire the cause. Minnie told 
him, in her candid, artless way, of the strange letter, 
the animus of which was to prejudice Eva against 
her lover. Minnie had never for a moment believed 
that Eva was indifferent to the contents of this letter ; 
and if she had believed as much at the time the let- 
ter was found, the scene at the store might well have 
confirmed her first theory. 

Minnie told Walton, as best she could, all that 
she remembered relative to this letter and its conse- 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE, 


281 


quences. It was a rambling, disconnected story, 
but enough, quite enough, to confirm the worst 
opinion he had ever formed of Delia Logan. She 
was as deceitful and heartless as her mother. 

Walton informed his employer that he had made 
arrangements to leave the city. He had secured 
work in Mobile and would leave for that city in a 
few days. Returning to his room, he was surprised 
to find a letter post-marked Mt. Astor, Ohio. He 
had not heard from home for a long time. Since 
his mother’s marriage he had, in a great measure, 
lost all interest in the old home and its associations, 
formerly so dear to his heart. He had never become 
reconciled to this marriage, perhaps never would. 
He had only written at long intervals, to know if 
they were alive and well. Sometimes he answered 
his mother’s letters, but oftener did not reply to 
those loving epistles. He was not indifferent to 
their welfare, however, and was delighted to hear 
from them once more. He broke the seal and 
glanced hurriedly at the contents. The letter con- 
tained little news of interest, but near the close of it 
Mrs. Preston called his attention to a printed slip, 
which she doubted not would proVe of much in- 
terest, as it concerned one whom they all had much 
cause to hate ; “ but,” added she, “the old wretch is 
now past knowing or feeling the contempt of the 
living.” Sidney read the slip with great interest. 
It had been clipped from the local paper, and read 
as follows: 

DENIS PIPER PAYS THE DEBT. 

Denis Piper, proprietor of Pilgrim’s Rest, is no more. He was 
stabbed in a drunken row last week and died of his wound three days 
afterwards. Denis, during his long and eventful life, was a profound 


282 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE, 


mystery to our people. Now that he is no more; now that the mys- 
tery of his strange life stands revealed in the form of an honest, truth- 
ful confession, the mystery disappears, and what seemed strange to ns 
is now as plain as the light of day. The inspiration of this man’s 
strange conduct was a terrible crime committed many years ago. He 
had in early life murdered a man in Kentucky, and under circumstances 
which made his crime dastardly in the extreme. In his confession he 
states all the particularsjconnected with this crime, too lengthy in all 
their details to be given in full in this article. Piper, or Wingate, as 
he then called himself, was hired by a man named Parker to abduct his 
(Parker’s) child from its mother, who had abandoned her husband and 
returned to live with her parents. Wingate and his accomplice, a man* 
named Foley, were met with resistence, and to accomplish their pur- 
pose murdered Mrs. Parker’s bi'other. With l!he shadow of this great 
crime resting upon his soul. Piper changed his name, and after mean- 
dering up and down the world for several years, at last settled at Mt. 
Astar, where he remained up to the day of his death. He had lost 
sight of the Parkers, of the child he had stolen, and of his accomplice 
— at least for many years — but he could not rid his conscience of the 
terrible burden, for he had fired the fatal shot and was really the guilty 
man. His accomplice seems to have suffered no less. This man, 
Foley, had kept trace of the abducted child from boyhood to manhood 
and had formulated a perfect chain of evidence which might, in the 
end, establish the identity of the missing heir to old Parker’s immense 
estate, Hg had, howevei, at last lost all trace of the man. Foley had 
letters from Parker, also from the man who had partly raised the child. 
These and other documents, together with a sworn statement made 
and subscribed by Foley, were placed in the hands of Col. Hensley, a • 
distinguished lawyer of Kentucky. After doing all he could to amel- 
iorate the evil consequences of his crime, Foley wrote to Denis Piper 
urging him to do likewise. With the shadow of death resting upon his 
guilty soul, Denis did all that his accomplice had requested, and more; 
he -.villod his estate, estimated at $25,000, to the missing heir, placing 
his v/ill and confession in the hands of the same individual. Thus it 
will be seen Lhat Col. Plensley has strong evidence to substantiate the 
identity of Parker’s son, if that individual can be found, but, so far, no 
tidings iiave been hecard of him. Col. Hensley is quite reticent on the 
subject, but he is a shrewd lawyer and probably knows b^st. He has 
taken possession of the property in trust, and so ends the first scene in 
this remarkable tragedy in real life. 


Early arrived in New Orleans the day after Wal- 
ton’s return from Duvall Glen, and as he had been 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


283 

cordially invited to call on the Temples when he 
next visited the city, he made free to avail himself of 
the invitation, but not until he had learned from a 
letter which awaited him in the New Orleans post- 
office, that Eva had left for home. 

The same dish of gossip that had been served the 
day before for Walton, was set before young Early. 
The whole theme of conversation being the letter, 
the quarrel between Eva and Delia and the sud- 
den flight of the latter from the city. Early was 
as much surprised as Walton, but the news affected 
him quite differently. He did not believe that Delia 
had written the better found in the garden, but as 
Miss Temple seemed so positive in the belief, he did 
not contradict her. He had admired Delia’s beauty; 
might have fallen in love with the beautiful Creole 
had it not been for the contempt he had previously 
felt for her mercenary nature — he, it seems, had been 
deceived like all the rest. The knowledge that Delia 
had fled from home rather than marry Delmont deep- 
.ened Early’s admiration into love. He would seek 
for this charming woman until he found her. If she 
could reciprocate his passion he meant to propose 
marriage. He would show Miss Duvall that he 
could be happy in the world without her — something 
he had never imagined possible before. 

After waiting for several weeks, vainly hoping that 
Walton would write to her for an explanation, Eva 
determined to write to him and explain the whole 
matter. She would tell him how much ^he loyed 
him, and how sorry she was for her mother’s unkind- 
ness ; she would again pledge her heart and hand to 


284 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE, 


him, as before, and forever. She believed that her 
first duty was to her lover. They were mutually 
pledged to each other and she felt that no one had 
the least right to come between them. Finding that 
he would not write for an explanation, she felt all the 
more'anxious to write herself. She did not blame 
him for not writing ; on the contrary she admired 
his pride of character and loved him more devotedly 
than ever. She wrote her J.over a long letter explain- 
ing all that had passed, and it was brim full of loving 
words, and most encouraging. After finishing it, 
she discovered that she had no envelopes. This 
was a small matter, however, as shl? was compelled 
to go to the Landing herself to mail the letter — she 
could not trust it in the hands of another. 

The Glen was a village on the Duvall lands, being 
a depot of supplies for the two plantations. The 
store was managed by Albert Early, and was in 
charge of a young man who had grown up in the 
service of the Duvalls and Earlys. The post office 
was kept in this store. 

When Eva entered there was quite a crowd stand- 
ing at the counters talking and trading, and the clerks 
seemed to be very busy. The foreman bowed to 
Eva and said : 

“ What can I do for you, Miss Duvall ? ” 

I do not wish anything to-day, thank you, but 
an envelope and a stamp.” 

The clerk quickly procured them, and she stepped 
to the writing desk and backed the letter hurriedly. 
She was a little embarrassed and excited ; so much 
so as not to notice the name of Early, which was 
printed in small letters on the corner of the envelope : 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


285 


If not called for in ten days, return to Albert Early, 
Duvall Glen, La.” 

Eva did not dream of the unfortunate blunder she 
had made. She waited long and anxiously for an 
answer, never once suspecting the sad fate of her 
loving epistle. 

When the letter reached New Orleans, Walton 
was in Mobile. Having left no orders respecting his 
mail, the letter was returned to Duvall Glen. Albert 
Early, in looking over the letters, came across this 
one, and very readily guessed the contents. Being 
an honorable man, he would have parted with his 
right arm rather than tamper with the private corres- 
pondence of another, but he unfortunately alluded 
to the letter in the presence of his wife and daughter 
at the supper table'that evening. 

As soon as Early left for the store next morning, 
Mrs. Early ordered her carriage and told the negro 
to drive directly to Duvall Mansion. 

The letter was the only theme of conversation. It 
was canvassed from every standpoint which could be 
imagined — and what three frantically jealous women 
cannot imagine is hardly worth mention. 

Mrs. Duvall declared her intention to intercept 
this letter, and Mrs. Early, having accomplished the 
object of her visit, returned home well pleased 
with the day’s work. 

Mrs. Duvall drove to the store next day and asked 
to see Mr. Smiley, the head clerk of the establish- 
ment. When shown into the office she helped her- 
self to a seat, and adjusting her gorgeous silk skirts 
and assuming a pose of frightful dignity, said : 

“ Mr. Smiley, I have come to have a little confi- 
dential talk with you this morning.” 


I 


2S6 


THE BATTLE OE LITE, 


Smiley^stood half bent witli his hands in hiS 
breeches pockets and a pencil behind each ear, evi- 
dently amazed at his visitor and her strange language. 
Mrs. Duvall could hardly repress a smile at his 
awkward anxiety. To relieve his embarrassment, 
she said in a mild, reassuring tone : 

“Please be seated, Mr. Smiley; I must bore you 
with a good long talk. There is a returned letter in 
the office,” she continued, “ that was written by my 
daughter to a fellow named Sidney Walton. 1 wish 
you to deliver that letter into my hands.” 

Smiley rose and started for the letter. 

“Hold! Mr. Smiley; not yet, please. Take your 
seat ; I am not through talking yet.” 

Smiley, more than ever confused, took his seat, 
with a “ yes, mam — yes 1 

“ You know very well, Mr. Smiley, that were I to 
commandyouto do a thing, you would have to obey 
or give up your situation ? ” 

“Yes, mam.” 

“ I do not propose to be harsh and tyrannical. I 
shall pay you for doing that which I could easily 
compel you to do. My daughter, has unfortunately 
fallen in love with a Yankee adventurer; a mechanic 
©f some sort, in New Orleans. His name is Sidney 
Walton. What I want you to do is this : You 
must deliver into my hands all letters that are di- 
rected to my daughter and detain all letters ad- 
dressed to Sidney Walton. , Do you understand ? ” 

“ Yes, mam,” 

“The conditions are, if you fail me, out you go; 
if you obey, your wages shall be increased to ;^ioo 
per month, from date. You shall look to me foi 


TH^ BATTLE OF LIFE, 287 

one-half your wages, to Mr. Early for the rest. 
Now get that le'tter for me, and I will go.” 

When Smiley returned with the letter she took it 
softly in her delicately gloved hand, but without so 
much as thanking Smiley — it is bad taste to thank 
servants, you know. 

Gathering her skirts about her, she said in a low 
tone : 

“ Go before, now, Mr. Smiley, and clear the way; 
make those rowdies stand aside, I cannot bear \o 
look at them, I wonder how you and Mr. Early 
can stand to live in such a den ! ” And she swept 
through the store like the Queen of Sheba, minus 
her train. 


CHAPTER XLIT 

ENEMIES TO-DAY FRIENDS TO-MORROW. 

“ I thought you were enemies ?” 

“ Well, yes — no — the fact is, I fought him yesterday, but we are 
friends to-day.” 

C^LLAN EARLY learned from Captain Lewis 
. fZri. that the Logans had gone to Memphis, their 
former home, but the Captain of 'the Quitman 
knew nothing further about them than this. Logan 
had left the steamer, and as they were never very 
good friends, the captain had lost all trace of him. 

Early, having nothing else to do, concluded to go 
to Memphis. It was his intention to put Abner off 
at Duvall Glenn and continue his journey alone, but 


288 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


the old darkey begged to go with his young master, 
who could not resist his earnest appeal. 

It was Early’s intention to call on the Logans. 
He would inquire about Delia, as though he had 
never heard of her flight, and hoped to learn from 
her parents all the particulars of her going away. A 
thorough knowledge of the circumstances might as- 
sist him in finding the young lady. The desire to 
find Delia Logan had become the ruling motive of 
his life. He could have loved her at first sight had 
he dared to indulge the passion ; and now that it ap- 
peared not only reasonable, but probable, that he 
might love and wed “ the beautiful creole,” he could 
not rest contented until he had found her and con- 
fessed his love. He considered her far superior to 
Eva Duvall, both in beauty and culture, but he had 
not always thought thus. The fox never discovered 
that the grapes were .sour and worthless until he 
found they were beyond his reach. 

The faithful old darkey had just deposited his 
master’s luggage in the office of one of the principal 
hotels of Memphis, when Sidney Walton entered 
and stepped up to register, unobserved by Early, 
but recognized in an instant by Abner. 

The old darkey’s greatest fault was his propensity 
to gab, and his want of proper judgment as to the 
time and place in which to indulge this propensity. 
Seeing Walton enter the room, he blurted out: 

Dar he am now, Massa Early ! ” 

Walton had crossed the room and was standing with 
with his back to Early writing his name in the register. 

“ Who? ” said Early, looking from one to another 
in surprise. 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE, 


289 

“ De steamboat clerk,” repeated the old darkey, 
in a disparaging tone of voice, and loud enough to 
be heard by all present, “ de feller what tried to 
make luv to Miss Eva; de Yankee chap da calls 
Sibney Waltun. Dar he am, now, writin’ in de big 
book. Spec he wants a job uv clerkin' fur to pay 
his board — he, he, he ! ” 

Walton, his face livid with rage, turned upon Ab- 
ner and his master, and in a tone of voice that trem- 
bled with intense anger, said : 

“ Your name is Early, I believe? ” 

“That’s my name, sir.”, 

“If 3^ou are a gentleman, I wish to know why you 
allow your slave to speak of me in my presence in a 
manner so discourteous and impolite? ” 

“ Gentlemen — Southern gentlemen — do not notice 
the silly twaddle of strange negroes; but, as you 
choose to be insulted at Abner’s remarks, thereby 
placing yourself on a level with the darkey, I advise 
you to fight it out. It is your quarrel, not mine.” 

“ Do you sanction the insult ? ” 

“ Are you insulted, Mr. Walton ? ” 

Abner, frightened almost out of his wits, com- 
menced stammering an apology to Walton, when 
Early stopped him with : 

“ Hold your tongue, you d — d old fool I ” 

“ Do you uphold the negro ? If you are a gentle- 
man, I demand an answer ; if you are not, accept 
my scorn and contempt.” 

Early stepped quickly in front of Walton and said, 
at the same time placing his right hand upon the 
handle of his revolver : 

“ Sir, are you armed? ” 

18 


290 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE, 


“Yes, with the arms that God gave me,” said 
Walton, striking him a furious blow with his fist that 
sent the young aristocrat to tlie floor in a stunned 
and addled condition, while Abner shrieked murder 
at the top of his voice. A policeman, rushed in and 
arrested both combatants before Early could rise to 
his feet. 

They were marched off to th0« station. 

The bystanders, who had seen and heard all that 
passed, were in sympathy with Walton, and insisted 
on paying his fine, but he would not allow them to 
do so. 

Early had to defer his visit indefinitely. He re- 
membered Mrs. Logan as a grand lady, and did not 
dare to call upon her with a black eye. 

While in the seclusion of his own chamber, nurs- 
ing his swollen and discolored optic, he had am- 
ple time to reflect over the folly and rashness of his 
conduct in provoking Walton to strike the blow 
from the effects of which he was now suffering. He 
resolved to write to Walton and ask his pardon. 
Acting upon the impulse, he addressed a note to his 
rival, asking his pardon for the insult of the day 
before. He was delighted, a few hours later, to re- 
ceive a note from Walton written in the same spirit, 
expressing much regret for having inflicted such se- 
vere punishment upon the person of one whom he 
esteemed so highly. Thus ended the first serious 
trouble between Walton and Early. They had long 
hated each other with all their hearts, but without 
manifesting their hatred to a living soul. 

It was not long until the young men again met 
face to face, and as the lives of both had so long 


THE BA TTLE OF LIFE. 


291 


conflicted, it was a real pleasure for them to laugh 
over the past. Both had lost all interest in Eva 
Duvall. She had disappointed the brightest hopes 
of each, and was no longer worth quarreling over. 
There was a mutual exchange of personal history, 
and, as misery loves company, they found much 
pleasure in conversing of the hopes and disappoint- 
ments of the past. Walton told Early of his first 
love ; how he had admired and loved Delia Logan, 
and how wretchedly he had been disappointed in his 
estimation of that woman. He related the circum- 
stance of the letter which she had written to Eva 
Duvall, and added: 

“Had the deed been actuated by jealousy ; had 
she done this wrong out of love for me, I should cer- 
tainly have condemned the act, but might have 
forgiven Miss Logan ; but it was from no such motive. 
At the time she wrote that letter we were barely 
friends. She was as cold to me as an iceberg, and I 
had returned this coldness, barely treating her with 
politeness when we met.” 

Early defended Miss Logan with an earnestness 
that surprised Walton. He did not believe that 
Delia had ever been guilty of such baseness. 

Walton refused to be convinced. He had many 
reasons which he did not care to mention, all in con- 
firmation of his opinion. He had at first rejoiced at 
the circumstance, he said, as it went to prove that 
Eva was sincere in her attachment, and acting upon 
that impulse he had written to Miss Duvall but re- 
ceived no answer. He was now satisfied that he had 
been trifled with by both, and was anxious to forget • 
them and all those foolish dreams of love and happi- 


292 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE, 


ness, for they were but dreams, and as false and base- 
less as dreams ever are. 

After a long silence. Early said : 

^*Do you think Miss Logan went to her brother?’^ 

‘‘No.” 

“You believe that she is still in this country?” 

“ I have not a doubt of it. When a man knows a 
thing it is quite natural for him to be positive, is it 
not?” 

“Then you mean to say that you know?” 

“I do. I saw Delia Logan about ten days since; 
I met her face to face on the streets of Mobile.” 

“ Why, in God’s name, have you kept this news 
from me all this while ? ” 

“ Because you never asked for information.” 

“ Walton, I must see Miss Logan and know all 
about this before I condemn her.” 

“ I have two requests to make of you. Early,” said 
Walton, thoughtfully. “Will you promise me, on 
the honor of a gentleman, that you will grant me two 
small favors ? ” 

“With all my heart, Walton. What shall I prom- 
ise ? What would you have me do ? ” 

“ First : If you discover that Miss Logan did not 
wrong me — that I have been laboring under a terri- 
ble mistake about that letter — let me know at once. 
My second request is that you will not inform the 
Logans of Delia’s whereabouts.” 

“ I will do as you wish, because I have promised 
and cannot go back on my word, but I would thank 
you very kindly to release me, or else satisfy me 
that you will take no advantage of the knowledge of 
Miss Logan’s innocence, should I report favorably 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE 


293 


after our interview. You have come between me 
and the dearest object of my heart once, and I have 
cheerfully forgiven you. I think I have a right to 
ask you not to pull me down the second time. I 
love Delia Logan. I believe her to be perfectly in- 
nocent of the crime of which you accuse her. Now, 
suppose you were convinced of this fact? would you 
renew your suit? ” 

‘‘You have no right to ask me that question. Ear- 
ly, and I beg you will not insist on an answer.” 

“Then I cancel my promise,” said Early, in an 
angry tone. 

“Very well, sir ! I shall see Miss Logan myself 
and learn from her own lips the truth or falsity of my 
suspicions. I am now satisfied that you knoiv a 
great deal more about this matter than you care to 
tell. I release you from your promise ! ” and he rose 
from his seat and paced the floor in a towering pas- 
sion. 

“ Walton,” said Early, calmly, “there is no use to 
get excited over this matter, unless you mean to in- 
sult me. If you mean to insinuate that I had any- 
thing to do with that letter,” and he looked fiercely 
at Walton, who had now stopped in his walk and was 
glaring into the face of the speaker,” “ if you mean 
to insinuate — ” 

“I ‘insinuate’ nothing, Mr. Early ! What I have 
said I have said, and you can make the most of it. 
You are my guest. I hope you will not provoke me 
to violate the rules of hospitality. If you please, we 
will discuss this question at another time and at a 
place where we shall not be restrained from speak- 
ing our minds freely.” 


294 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


“ Very well, sir,” said Early, snatching up his hat 
and cane, and starting for the door, “ I shall demand 
an explanation, rest assured of that — we shall meet 
again.” 

The night following, as Walton was returning 
from the theatre at a late hour, and while passing a 
narrow, unfrequented street, he received a violent 
blow on the head, from an unseen enemy, and fell 
senseless and apparently lifeless to the ground. His 
pockets were picked of several hundred dollars. 
Several hours later a policeman was attracted to the 
spot by the wounded man’s groans. He found 
Walton senseless and speechless. The young man 
was carried tp his hotel, where he lingered for many 
days between life and death. 

Between midnight and day of the same night 
Early had quietly left his hotel and taken passage 
on a steamboat for Duvall Glenn. This, taken in 
connection with the trouble between Walton and 
himself, lead the police to believe that Early had 
provoked the assault. Early was not suspected of 
having committed the robberry, but it was one of 
the consequences of the crime which he had insti- 
gated. 

When Walton came to himself, he learned from 
the landlord that he had remained insensible for 
many days, raving about all manner of things, but 
mostly about the marriage of his mother to one Dr. 
Preston, for whom he had expressed much aversion; 
he had also raved not a little about his money, 
four hundred dollars, which a careful search had not 
revealed.^ But the strangest, most startling news, 
he was yet to learn ; he had been nursed through 


THE BATTLE OB LIFE. 


295 


the crisis of his illness by a strange man calling him- 
self Hamilton, and who claimed to have been the 
friend of his father. He had hardly left the 
bed-side, night or day, and had only taken his 
leave .after learning that the young man was out of 
danger. On going away he had advised the land- 
lord to make one more search for the lost money, 
saying that it might be found under the lining of the 
young man’s boot. The landlord said he had 
promised to do so, and as that was as good a time 
as any, he would proceed with the search. The 
first boot was carefully examined, but to no purpose. 
Under the lining of the other the landlord found the 
exact sum the young man had complained of losing. 
Sidney took the money, but said nothing. He 
knew he had not placed it there — knew that it was 
another gift from the mysterious stranger who 
seemed to follow him up and down the world with 
all the solicitude of a parent. 


CHAPTER XLIII. 


DELIA LOGAN LEAVES MOBILE. 


“ Enough that we are parted, that there rolls 
A flood of headlong fate between our souls ! ” 


CX) ELAN EARLY lost no time in seeking Delia 
xjL Logan, for he was convinced that Walton had 
information relative to that lady’s where- 
abouts. The old flame was not extinguished. Should 
they meet again, all their troubles would be over m 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


296 

less than five minutes; they would love each other 
as sincerely as before. Early was a good judge of 
human nature, and, as usual, had judged correctly. 

Arriving at Mobile, he soon learned that Delia 
was assistant teacher of French and music in a 
female boarding school in the near vicinity of that 
city. He lost no time in calling on Mrs. Moreau, 
the principal of the seminary. He found her a lady 
of refinement and culture. She listened with much 
interest to Early’s request, for the young man did 
not conceal the real object of his visit, nor the fact 
that he was barely acquainted with Miss ^.ogan. 
When he had finished, Mrs. Moreau said : 

I am sorry to disappoint your hopes, Mr. Early, 
but the lady of whom you speak left the seminary 
several weeks ago. She chanced to meet a former 
lover of hers on the street one day and was very un- 
happy ever after. As the young man was in busi- 
ness and likely to remain, she concluded it best for 
her own happiness to put as many miles as possible 
between them. I procured a good place for her and 
sent the poor child away with my blessing. Before 
leaving she wrote a note which she requested me to 
give to any one who might enquire for her. They 
would thus learn the real cause of her going away 
and why she was anxious to sever every link in the 
chain that connected her with the past,” saying which 
she handed Early a sealed letter addressed to whont 
it may concern. 

Reaching his room at t’he hotel. Early broke the 
seal and read : 

This -Wrill inform you that it fs useless for any one to seek me further. 

I wrote to my people a few weeks ago and my letter was returned to 
me unopened. This is the third time that my mother and fathe^have 


THE. BATTLE OE LITE. 


297 


refused to read or answer my letters. Those I have loved best have 
treated me most cruelly ; what can I hope from those who have no 
cause to love or cheer me ? With this great burden resting heavily 
upon, my heart, I have determined to sever the last link that binds me 
to friends, kindred and foes. Respectfully, Delia Logan. 

Delia had written to her parents after reaching 
Mobile, informing them that she had secure a good 
place and begging their pardon for the past, but re- 
ceived no answer. She next wrote to Minnie Tem- 
ple and waited long and in vain for an answer. Thus, 
discarded by all her friends, she had hardly expected 
any one to enquire for her, but being conscious that 
Walton had no just cause to think ill of her, and be- 
lieving that he was honestly mistaken, she thought 
perhaps he might one day discover his error and 
seek an interview. The letter was written for his 
benefit alone. Believing him to be the accepted 
lover of Eva Duvall, she felt that an interview would 
prove painful to both, and to avoid such she had 
written and left behind the above letter, little dream- 
ing into whose hands it would ultimately fall. 

Miss Logan had told the kind-hearted old French 
lady all that was in her heart. There was a perfect 
bond of sympathy between them, the strongest, per- 
haps, being that of religious belief — both were Cath- 
olics. Mrs. Moreau knew from Delia’s own lips how 
ardently she loved Walton, and the many sacrifices 
she had made for his sake ; knew the real cause why 
shd wished to avoid an interview with her former 
lover. With the full knowledge of all the facts con- 
nected with Delia’s recent history. Mrs. Moreau 
enquired fully into the motives of Walton when he 
called at the seminary a few weeks later, and being 
fully satisfied that an interview between them would 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


298 

result favorablyto both, did not hesitate to tell Wal- 
ton where he might find Miss Logan. Delia was a 
governess, she said, in the family of Col. Andrews, a 
young lawyer of wealth and distinction residing in 
the vicinity of Nashville, Tennessee. She advised 
Walton to visit Miss Logan at once, as the family 
with whom she lived would soon leave for a tour of 
Europe. 

Walton was better prepared for the interview that 
followed than Delia, for he had learned enough 
from Mrs. Moreau to convince him of Miss Logan’s 
entire innocence. She had never ceased to love 
him notwithstanding he had wronged her, seeming- 
ly, past all end Irance. He asked her pardon with- 
out attempting to excuse his own conduct. It did 
not take them long to understand how terribly each 
had been deceived and abused by some one bent 
and* determined that they should hate each other. 
Walton felt most heartily ashamed of himself for hav- 
ing suspected Delia of being guilty of such baseness, 
and told her so in the most abject, earnest and im- 
ploring manner. She was so reasonable, so forgiv- 
ing, so happy to meet him, that the simple acknowl- 
edgment of having been mistaken was apology 
enough. Walton protested that he loved her with 
all his heart, and declared that she could make him 
the happiest of mortals by consenting to be his 
wife. 

Delia checked him in the midst of his most earnest 
protestations of love and confidence. 

“Listen to me,” said she, in a calm but deter- 
mined tone : “ I have thought much more, felt 

much deeper, than you ever did, perhaps ever will ; 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


299 


br while you were striving to forget me, I was think- 
ng of you all the while. I had despaired, but you 
lad not, for you had no cause. Another stepped 
nto my place, and you were happy. Your happi- 
less was my misery, but I did not complain. An- 
swer me one question : Why have you turned away 
:rom Eva Duvall whom you but recently loved and 
ivorshipped ? ” 

Eva turned away from me,” said Walton, some- 
what embarrassed. “ I will tell you all. There 
shall be no more secrets 'between us,” and he re- 
^"latedthe circumstance of his visit to Duvall Glen; 

' ' how cruelly he had been treated ; how he had hoped 
■ 1 that Eva was not a party to his humiliation, and had 
written to her several times, but received no answer. 

Delia listened with deep interest to the story of 
his downfall ; how all his bright hopes had been 
blighted. When he at last finished, she calmly said; 

You now come to me for love and consolation. 
You shall have both. I love you too well to deprive 
you of a moment’s happiness. Eva Duvall was 
once the idol of your heart; she would be still were 
you assured of her love. Eva is also a dear friend 
of mine — at least was until some designing person 
conspired against our friendship. Could I see Eva 
Duvall and explain all, she would love me as of old. 
I have thought of this often, and my duty is now 
plain enough. An explanation is needed ; I owe it 
to Eva as a friend, and cannot leave this country 
without telling her of the terrible mistake which has 
caused us both so much pain. Eva is not to blame 
for what you have suffered any more than for my 
own suffering. I know Miss Duvall too well to 


300 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


think ill of her. She is most honorable, sincere and 
loving. She is devoted to you. You have suffered 
not on Eva’s account, but through the malice and 
hatred of others. I will visit Miss Duvall and ex- 
plain everything. You may wonder at the sacrifice, 
but it is one of the most natural things for an honor- 
able woman to do. I have grown very strong in my 
misfortunes; I have learned to do my duty to God 
and man, though in doing so I must trample my 
own affections in the dust. When I have reconciled 
you and Eva, I shall go abroad with a clear con- 
science, for, having done my whole duty, I must and 
will be happy.” 

Walton felt humble in the presence of this pure, 
loving, unselfish woman. He almost felt ashamed of 
himself, though his conscience did not reprove him 
of fickleness or want of sincerity. Delia did not up- 
braid him, but he felt reproved and humbled, never- 
theless. Knowing Miss Logan’s firmness, he did not 
attempt to dissuade her from going to Duvall Glen, 
but at heart he almost wished that her mission might 
prove a failure, and had he been right sure of winning 
her in case this last effort to win Miss Duvall should 
fail, he would have prayed for Just such a failure as 
would throw Delia finally and forever into his arms, 
for to his fervid imagination she was superior to Eva 
in every sense of the word ; superior to any woman 
living. Before parting, Delia said she wished to ask 
two favors of Walton, the last, perhaps, she would 
ever ask of him. Would he promise ? 

Taking both her hands in his, Walton said, with 
much feeling : 

My dearest, I will ! ” 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE 


301 


I “ If I make friends of you and Eva, will you be 
|true to the vow you have already plighted ; the vow 
|to love and protect her always ? ” 

“ I promise ! ” 

I “We are just upon the threshold of a terrible civil 
. war: Will you promise never to draw your sword 
, against my people ? “ 

1 “I never will, God being my witness ! ” 

, Walton did not tell Delia of the wretched changes 
I that had recently come over her once happy home. 

, It would do no good. Such news would only add 
to the weight of sorrow already sufficient, it seemed, 
to crush the heart of this brave, true, noble woman. 
He had learned from Early that the Logans were 
living in a wretched, delapidated tenement house in 
Memphis ; miserably poor and almost heart-broken 
at thought of their misfortunes. Delmont had sold 
them out of house and home as soon as he learned 
of Delia’s flight, for Philip Logan was indebted to 
him for almost all that he possessed. They had re- 
turned to Memphis, their former home, but not to 
the society of other and better days. Mrs. Logan 
was as proud as she was poor, and cared not for 
society, now that she was no longer able to move in 
the highest circles. 

Delia was no stranger at Duvall Mansion. She 
was met by Mrs. Duvall, who received her with ap- 
parent kindness, but seemed surprised at the visit, as 
well she might under the circumstances. After an 
exchange of social greetings, Delia asked if she might 
see Eva. 

“ Remain seated, please,” said Mrs. Duvall, “ 1 
; will announce you myself.” 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


302 

She did not return for several minutes, and when 
she did it was only to announce the painful intelli- 
gence that Eva refused to see her visitor. Mrs. Du- 
vall added, tearfully : Do not ask me why, for God’s 
sake ! This is all very painful to me ! ” 

“ May I go to the door of her room ? I will not 
clamor for admission. There shall be no scene — I 
pledge you not ! ” , 

“ Yes, and I will go with you.” 

“ No, Lthank you, I prefer to go alone. I know 
the way. Excuse me, I must go alone.” 

MrSc Duvall’s suspicions were now thoroughly 
aroused. She followed, but far in the rear and quite 
out* of sight. Where the hallway leading to Eva’s 
room turned at right angles, there was a doorway, 
the door of which opened outward. Taking up her 
position behind this, she listened. 

Delia knocked for admission, but receiving no an- 
swer, said : 

“ Eva, dear, I am going to Europe as a governess, 
and will start in a month or two. I have come to 
tell you good-bye. If you are offended, please give 
me a chance to explain. I never wronged you by 
word or deed in all my life. I love you as L.have 
always loved. Do you hear me ? If you value your 
future happiness,” continued she, “you will heed my 
words. Are you listening?” 

No answer from within. 

Delia now thought she heard a noise in the hall- 
way — it was Mrs. Duvall behind the door — and 
hurried through her message without saying all that 
she had intended to say. 

“You will not speak — you will not hear me,” said 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


303 


she, bitterly, *‘but you will read this letter which I 
leave at your door. It concerns your happiness, not 
mine — will you read it ? ” 

No answer. 

“ Shall I take it up and carry it away, and leave 
you still in doubt ? ” 

No reply from within. 

“Very well, I will take the letter away, and you 
will never know the truth ; never know the great 
sacrifice I have made for your sake,” and she stooped 
and took up the letter she had just dropped. As she 
turned sadly away, Eva cried out — her voice was 
like a sob : 

“ Leave the letter — leave it at my door — I will 
read it ! If it brings me peace and joy, I will love 
you all the days of my life ! Good-bye ! ” 

“Thank God!” said Delia, and putting her lips 
near the key-hole, she added : 

“ Good-bye, and may God bless you I ” 

As she turned to leave, Mrs., Duvall pulled the 
door gently fast and shut herself in the room until 
her visitor had passed by, then rushing on tip-toe to 
her daughter’s room, she seized the letter and disap- 
peared down stairs before Eva ventured out of her 
/room. Miss Duvall expected some teachery; she 
was gravely suspicious of Delia, and did not want to 
meet her face to face until, if ever, she was satisfied 
of her innocence. She at last opened the door, but 
looked in vain for the letter.. 

Miss Logan and Mrs. Duvall reached the drawing 
room almost at the same instant. 

“ Well, my dear,” said the cunning matron. “ did 
you see Eva ? ” 


304 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


“No, she refused to admit me; refused to speak 
to me even, but I have done my dut>^.” 

“ I am very sorry that you and Eva should dis- 
agree. I fear Eva has acted rudely in refusing to 
see you. I hope, my dear, you will not blame me in 
the least, for nothing could afford me greater pleas- 
ure than the knowledge that you and Eva were 
friends again.” 

Delia doubted the sincerity of her words, but ac- 
cepted the apology in good faith and parted from 
Mrs. Duvall in the most friendly manner. 

Capt. Lewis had kindly detained the Quitman at 
Duvall landing a full half hour for Delia to make this 
visit and return. Under the circumstances, the visit 
was a mystery to him, but he asked no questions. 

As soon as Delia left, Mrs. Duvall went to her 
private room to read the letter which she had inter- 
cepted. Eva waited until the sound of Delia’s foot- 
steps died away in the distance, then emerging from 
her room she looked in vain for the letter. It was 
nowhere to be found. Suspecting that it had fallen 
into her mother’s hands, she slipped slyly to the door 
of her room and looked through the key-hole. Mrs. 
Duvall held the letter in her hand. She had just 
finished reading it. Eva heard her repeat to herself : 

“A nice scheme, truly ! only I am too old a bird 
to be caught with such chaff. They did not count 
the old woman anything in their plans; in this first- 
and-true-love adventure ; but she will not be ignor- 
ed. — ” She suddenly paused and wrapped the letter 
in her handkerchief. There was some one at the 
door. Eva now entered, and rushing to her moth- 
er’s side said, passionately : 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


305 


want that letter — the one you found at my 
door — the one I saw you reading just now — the one 
you have folded in your handkerchief! ” 

The women stood eyeing each other for several 
moments without speaking. 

“ Mother, do you call this honorable, violating the 
privacy of a sealed package ? ” 

Do you call it honorable, prying through the 
key-hole of your mother’s door ? ” 

I know its contents, mother ! What I don’t 
know, I can easily guess. It is a message from Sid- 
ney Walton. I have been mistaken to think Delia 
Logan was my enemy ; she is my friend — the truest, 
best, noblest friend that woman ever had! Her 
mother is a devil, and — ” 

Well, and what am I?” said Mrs. Duvall, 
sharply. 

“ The murderer of your daughter’s happiness 1 but 
I will never condone the fault, nor fall an easy victim 
to your plots, for here,” said she, falling upon her 
knees at her mother’s feet, “ I solemnly swear, be- 
fore high heaven, and call God to witness my vow : 
If Sidney Walton is true to me, I will remain true 
to him ; if he continues to love me, I will love him 
always, and will wed no other! ” 

Delia wrote Walton the particulars of her visit to 
Duvall Glen. Fearing that she might not be per- 
mitted to see and converse with Eva alone, she had 
written a letter explaining her mission. For some 
reason, Eva refused to see her, but she had left the 
letter at her door, and Eva had promised to read it. 
From the few words that passed between them, she 
had not a doubt but Eva was still true to her vows 

19 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE 


306 

of love. It was arranged that he should take pass- 
age on the Quitman in her next trip down the riven 
Eva would be at the window fronting the river, and 
as a token of her fidelity, would wave a handkerchief 
as a signal to her lover. 

Here was a chance to solve forever the vexatious 
problem of doubtful love, so long in abeyance and so 
truly annoying to Walton’s sensitive nature. It was 
a small thing for him to do, and the result, good or 
bad, would put an end to all suspense and anxiety — a 
consummation devoutly to be wished. He resolved 
to obey Delia’s instructions to the letter. 

Soon after the Quitman left Memphis, Captain 
Lewis entered Walton’s stateroom, and helping 
himself to a seat, said, rather abruptly ; 

Going to Duvall Glen, Walton ? ” 

** I am not going to Duvall Glen.” 

** Had a quarrel with Madam Duvall? ” 

” I never quarrel with women.”* 

‘‘But that don’t stop a woman’s tongue. Mrs. 
Duvall hates you — she could murder you.” 

“ Of that I have not the least doubt ; but how did 
you find out so much ? ” 

“ I know the secrets of all my patrons. What 
one does not tell another does.” 

‘‘ And they have been gossiping about me, have 
they?” 

“ Not Mrs. Duvall. She is too dignified to gos- 
sip; but the Earlys have literally blistered you with 
their tongues. I mean the women, of course. You 
have spoilt their little scheme. But for you, they 
would have gobbled the whole of Col.Duvall’s estate.” 

“And that’s not all. Captain Lewis?” 

“Well, perhaps not. What else, lad? ” 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


307 

“ 1 mean to spoil the beauty of the heir presump- 
tive to all this fame and fortune.” 

‘ What has he been doing?” 

” Enough to damn him.” 

“ Are you not mistaken ? Allan Early is a nice 
gentleman, surely.” 

“ Then your penitentiary is filled with gentlemen.” 

“ Do nothing rashly, my boy. Early is a brave 
man. He would shoot you, if necessary, as calmly 
as he would eat his dinner.” 

The Captain’s attention was now attracted to a 
bill of lading, and he left Walton alone to muse over 
what he had just told him. With the bitter thought 
of Early’s apparent duplicity rankling in his heart, 
the above conversation was as fuel to the flame. 
His hatred was increased ten-fold. In the midst of 
j those bitter reflections, they came in sight of Duvall 
I Glen. Going to the Captain’s stateroom, Walton 
asked the loan of his glass for a few minutes. 

“Take it, lad. It is a good magnifier. You can 
see the blushes on her pretty cheeks.” 

Walton took his stand on deck, and as the ves- 
1 sel neared the mansion, trained the glass upon the 
windows fronting the river. 

There was something fluttering from an upper 
window, as large almost as the window itself. What 
could it be ? The window was hoisted, but there 
was evidently no one waiting and watching on the 
inside. Presently the white curtain, or sheet, un- 
folded and lay at full length against the wall of the 
building. 

f There was an inscription in large black letters. 
He read it eagerly : 


308 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


“MAY THE CURSE OF WNOCENT BLOOD 
REST UPON THY NAME FOREVER! 

“EVA DUVALL/' 

Going to his room, he locked the door and gave 
way to his own sad, bitter thoughts. What a terri- 
ble insult this woman had given in return for his love 
and tender devotion ! What did she mean by that 
awful curse? Nothing, evidently nothing, but the 
wicked desire of saying something that would give 
him severe pain. 

The steamer landed for a moment. The plank was 
run out and a well-dressed, dignified young man came 
on board. It was Allan Early. Walton, being curi- 
ous to know why the boat had landed, left his room 
and walked out on deck, where he could have a 
good view of the surrounding country. He had 
scarcely done so, when he came suddenly face to 
face with Early. The young man advanced as if to 
shake hands, saying, good-naturedly : 

“ Walton, there is no reason in the world for this 
foolish bickering; no reason why we should not be 
friends. As for Miss Logan, about whom we quar- 
relled, she cares not a fig for either of us. She has 
left Mobile. There is positively no clue to her 
whereabouts. I have a letter — ” 

“ May the devil take you and your letter 1 “ said 
Walton, confronting his rival and looking him fierce- 
ly in the face. 

“Ah ! you are excited I Very well ; I care not a 
fig for that.” 

“ Early, why do you speak to me after what has 
happened ? ” 

“ After you have lashed yourself into a fearful 
passion ? Is that what you mean ? 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE, 


309 


i “This is no time for quibbling. You cannot 
evade the consequences of your own infamous 
crimes. You may bow and smirk, like the white- 
livered sneak-thief that you are, but I say to your 
face, and will make good the assertion, that you are 
a villain ! ” 

Early, who had been up to this time quite callm, 
now turned pale with rage. Reaching to a scabbard 
at his side, he drew forth a bright jeweled dagger. 
Speaking slowly and deliberately, he said, 

“ I supposed you were a gentleman, Walton, and 
being always ready and willing to answer a gentle- 
man, I meant to have offered you thorough satisfac- 
tion — though for the life of me I cannot see wherein 
I have ever wronged you — but as you prefer to Call 
me names, I shall defend my honor without any re- 
gard for yours. So you had best beware ! ” 

“What is that you hold in your hand, assassin?” 
said Walton, at the same time placing his right hand 
on the hilt of his own dagger. 

“ The self-same weapon that made a gentleman 
childless and broke a mother’s heart — the kind of 
weapon that destroyed the proudest -name in the 
South — it is a dagger ! ” 

“ What do you mean ? ” said Walton, drawing his 
> weapon from the scabbard. 

“ I mean that you are the son of a villain — the son 
of a murderer 

Walton stepped closer. There was a brief, fierce 
struggle for advantage. Early made a bold thrust 
* at Walton, who parried the blow with one hand and 
at the same instant sent his own dagger to the hilt 
in Early’s breast. 


310 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


CHAPTER XLl V. 


IN CAMP, 


“ Seeking the bubble reputation even at the cannon’s mouth.” 


a 



ALT ! ” 

It was a sentinel, clad in a strange uni- 
form and holding in his hands that fierce 


instrument of death which makes the soldier feared 
and dreaded by the defenceless foe. 

“A friend.” 

The stranger was a young man in citizen’s cloth- 
ing. He asked to see the colonel. 

“ Who do you wish to see ? This is Gen. Zolli- 
coffer’s headquarters. There are quite a number of 
colonels in camp.” 

“ A colonel of cavalry, if you please.” 

“A cavalry regiment has just arrived, commanded 
by Col. Hensley. Would that suit you? ” 

Hensley ! Hensley ! ” echoed Walton. Do you 
know the colonel’s Christian name? ” 

“ Yes, Col. Kit Hensley, of Harrodsburg.” 

“ Very well ; you will please show me the way to 
Col. Hensley’s tent.” 

He was taken in charge by a non-commissioned 
officer and led into the presence of his distinguished 
relative. The colonel was a tall, fine-looking man, 
and seemed every inch a soldier. 

“ Well, sir, who are you ? and what do you want?” 

“ I am a confederate seeking service.” 

“ Where are you from?” 

‘‘ New Orleans,” 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


3 “ 


“ Did they not need your services nearer home ?’^ 
said the colonel, grimly. 

“Dqubtless, but I am a Kentuckian in sentiment 
and akin to Kentuckians. I had started to Louis- 
ville, but hearing of this camp, turned aside and 
came here. J hope this explanation will prove sat- 
isfactory.” 

Yes. What is your name ? ” 

“ Sidney Walton.” 

What is your mother’s name ? ” said the Colonel, 
advancing towards the young man and exhibiting 
increased interest in his manner. 

** My mother’s name is Alice.” 

“ Her maiden name ? ” 

** Hensley.” 

“ God bless you, my boy ! ” said the Colonel, seiz- 
ing Sidney by both hands; “you are my nephew, 
indeed ! You are very, very welcome ! ” 

“ Thank you, uncle ! what will you have me do?” 
“ Come to my headquarters ! I have a thousand 
things to say to you that does not concern any one 
but ourselves. Thank God, I have one relative who 
will stand by me in this struggle ! You shall be 
more than a nephew; you shall be a son to me from 
this day henceforth and forever ! ” 

“ I have heard much about armed neutrality since 
reaching this State,” said Sidney. “ What do you 
mean by it ? ” 

“ It means,” said Col. Hensley, “just what our 
enemies say, a square fight for the South when the 
time comes to strike a blow for the Confederate 
cause. You did not come here to fight for ' armed 
neutrality,’ did you ? ” 


312 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


“ I did not. I came to fight for the South, and 
mean to cast my fortunes with the people among 
whom I have lived since I was fifteen years of age, 
most of whom have treated me very kindly. At 
home I was treated, outside my own family, like a 
stray dog. They derided my poverty, pointed the 
finger of scorn at my patched clothes ; calling me 
‘Walton’s boy,’ which meant more than you can im- 
agine, for my father was a drunkard,” and the young 
man’s voice faltered and his eyes filled with tears. 

“Do not mention it, my dear boy! We will not 
speak of the terrible past I I should have stood by 
you then, when you most needed help. I heard of 
you from time to time after you left home. Morris, 
God bless him ! loves you as he does his own son, 
and has always spoken to me in praise of you.” 

Walton soon became a favorite with the officers of 
the regiment, as well as the men. He had not been 
in camp more than a week until a delegation from a 
company, not yet thoroughly organized, waited on 
his uncle and informed him that they esteemed his 
nephew very highly and through deference to their 
superior officer, had resolved to make him captain of 
their company. 

Colonel Hensley thanked them very kindly and 
dismissed them with the promise that theirs should 
be the banner company of the regiment, an honor 
eagerly sought and highly appreciated. 

Col. Hensley furnished Captain Walton with a 
magnificent horse from his own stable, and a uniform 
made to order. 

A few days before the regiment left for Mill 
Springs, Col. Hensley retired for a few days to his 


I'HE BATTLE OF LIFE, 


313 


! home at Harrodsburg. He took his nephew with 
i him. He was justly proud of his young kinsman, 
i While at Harrodsburg, Colonel Hensley made his 
will and deposited it, together with Piper’s estate, 
. and the evidence of his crime, in the bank at that 
place, but did not mention the fact to his nephew. 
He was proud to observe that Sidney was not in the 
least mercenary in his views. He had never fished 
for the Hensley estate as other members of the fam- 
ily, nor had the young man disgusted him with an 
assumption of friendship he did not feel. He had 
come to him by the merest accident — of this there 
was not the least doubt. 

The weather was crisp and cold. It was the i8th 
of January. The soldiers from the sunny South had 
never experienced such cold in all their lives before. 
They shivered around their camp-fires, not daring to 
I lie down for fear of freezing to death. They all 
knew what they must do on the morrow. Enough 
had been read on dress parade to satisfy the most 
ignorant. 

The soldiers had been informed on dress parade 
that evening to prepare for business. So many 
rations must be cooked ; so many rounds of ammu- 
nition distributed. It meant a day of strife and blood- 
shed ; the last on earth to many, very many, who 
I now spoke of it with less concern than of the cold. 

! Col. Hensley could not sleep. He awoke his 
nephew, Capt. Walton, at a late hQur of the night 
and said : “ Sidney, I will be killed to-morrow.” 

* Why, Uncle Kit, how strangely you talk ! ” 

“Very well, my son, you will probably live to see 
the prediction verified.” 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE, 


3H 

** Uncle, I am surprised to hear you talk so ! You 
have never been so gloomy before. To-morrow is 
to be a day of action and the Kentucky Horse is 
expected to play a conspicuous part in the battle, 
and it behooves us to be as cheerful and resolute as 
possible.’* 

Never fear — I am ready. I will do my duty. 
The most a man can do is to die for his country. 
The sacrifice is ready and will be cheerfully made.” 

“ By what process of reasoning do you arrive at 
this conclusion ? Why do you think that you will 
be killed in to-morrow’s battle ? ” 

I had a strange vision last night. I lay in a kind 
of trance, as it were, and while in that condition, be- 
ing neither asleep nor awake, I was visited by my 
wife, then by my boys, and last by my dead brother, 
Arthur, or ‘Artie,’ as we usually called him.” 

“ Tell me of your brother, uncle. 1 am anxious 
to know all that you may choose to tell me relative 
to Uncle Arthur.” 

“ Did your mother never speak of Arthur? ” 

“Never; but I know she loved him very much, 
for she named my youngest brother, Artie, for his 
sake.” 

“It is a painful story and may soon be told. He 
was the youngest of the family. Our parents died 
while he was yet a child. He was a bright, hand- 
some, lovable boy and won the hearts of all who 
came in contact with him. I was his guardian. I 
could never say no to Arthur, and I fear my indul- 
gence was indirectly the ruin of the boy. He ran 
away from college without graduating and sought 
fame and fortune on the river, He gradually drifted 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


315 


I into habits of dissipation and became the most ex- 
i pert gambler on the Mississippi. After learning all 
‘ the games and tricks at cards then practiced by pro- 
I fessionals, he went to New Orleans and opened a 
I gambling hell of his own. One night, having strip- 
! ped a victim of his last shilling, the ruined man drew 
I 3, dagger and stabbed Arthur to the heart. His 
partner claimed every dollar of his estate, and when 
I visited New Orleans I could learn no particulars 
whatever. It was said by some that he was a mar- 
ried man, but I searched in vain for his family. 
This, in brief, is the history of your Uncle Arthur. 
He came to me last night in a vision and asked me 
why I had neglected his child. If I am killed to- 
morrow, I want you to investigate this matter, and if 
Arthur has a child still living I wish you to do for it 
as I would have done had I known of its existence.” 

“ I am very poor. Uncle Kit, as you doubtless 
know, but will do all I can.” 

“ As to your poverty, my son, you are fortunately 
mistaken. There is at Harrodsburg, in the vault 
of the bank, a will, recently executed, in which you 
are named as sole heir to all I possess.” 

The battle of Mill Spring was fought and lost. 
The poorly fed and worse armed Confederates were 
driven from the field; but the battle was a fierce 
one, and the Federals paid dearly for their victory. 
The Confederates were hurled back on Nashville, 
and their dreary winter’s march was sadly intensified 
by the loss of their noble leader. Gen. Felix Zolli- 
coffer was left dead on the field of battle. There 
were others, no less loved, but less noted, who like- 


3i6 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


wise slept the sleep that knows no waking. Colonel! 
Hensley fell in a cavalry charge late in the day. His 
division of cavalry was held in reserve until a late 
hour of the day. When orders were given to charge 
the tide of victory had already turned in favor of the 
Federal army. 

It was a forlorn hope at best ; a brief, fierce, des- 
perate struggle, in which saber crossed saber, and 
the muzzles of holsters met over the heads of horse 
and rider. A battery of Federal guns, at close range, 
enfiladed the rebel horse with grape and canister. 
But, like “the noble six hundred,” they did not fal- 
ter. The serried ranks closed quickly and pressed 
onward over the wounded and the slain. It was a 
hopeless, useless waste of life, but bravely done. 
The struggle lasted but a few minutes. Infantry and 
cavalry poured a deadly volley into the ranks of the 
advancing foe; then the Federal cavalry charged 
down upon them with a wild cheer, born of victory 
and superior strength. The Confederates were swept 
from the field. The batte.ry to the left — now to the 
right — swept their depleted ranks with another vol- 
ley of grape and canister. Col. Hensley was struck 
in the head and instantly killed. ' 

The ensign was shot dead from his horse. Cap- 
tain Walton dismounted, seized the flag and had 
hardly re-mounted, when his horse was shot dead 
under him. He seized the ensign’s horse, mounted 
and escaped through a shower ofi grape shot which 
seemed to preclude all hope of life to man or beast. 

Capt. Walton’s bravery was the talk of the whole 
army. This heroic deed, coupled with the fact that 
he was the nephew of Col. Hensley, procured for him 


THE BA TTLE OF LIFE. 


3^7 


nei the vacancy. When the regiment was reorganized 
iis Walton was given command of.it. He was, per- 
ite haps, the youngest colonel in the service, but all 
ge admitted his fitness for the place, and none be- 
lie grudged him the honor. 

The remnant of the gallant host was speedily reor- 
ganized at Nashville, but their stay in that city was 
id of brief duration. 

;e Grant had captured Forts Donaldson and Mc- 
e, Henry, and was rapidly moving from the west with 
r. large army, while Buell was descending from the 
i-' north with a well-ordered corps, also flushed with 
d recent victory. The city was doomed. Gen. John- 
1 son wisely ordered its evacuation without firing a 
. gun. All day long the Confederate army poured 
I through the streets, taking the road towards Mur- 
freesborough. 

' Col. Walton’s regiment brought up the rear of 
this slow and orderly retreat, and passed the suburbs 
of the city late in the evening. 

The road for rniles was lined on either side by 
palatial country residences, the balconies of which 
were crowded by anxious people, horrified at the 
thought of being left at the mercy of the advancing 
; foe. 

Col. Walton and staff were far in advance of the 
regiment. The ladies from the mansions by the 
road-side waved adieus to them as they passed. 

At last they approached a magnificent residence, 
upon the balcony of which were several elegantly 
dressed ladies. They gazed through their glasses at 
' a small group of officers who were now approaching 
and in close view of the mansion. As they drew 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


318 

nearer, a tall, handsome young lady, who had been 
intently watching their approach, was heard to say : 

“ It’s Col. Walton ! I must speak to him.” 

Mrs. Andrews tried to detain her, but she cried : 

“ I must, I will speak to Col. Walton ! ” 

She rushed frantically down the stairway, out into 
the yard, and down the gravel walk to the gate. 
Col. Walton recognized her the moment she emerged 
from the door of the mansion. It was Delia Logan. 

Walton halted at the gate, dismounted and waited 
her approach. A motion of the hand towards his 
staff indicated his pleasure. They rode on as though 
nothing had happened to disturb the order of 
marching. 

“ Delia ! ” 

“ Sidney ! ” 

The lovers, after sad, weary years of separation — 
years of misfortune, misery and slander, in which 
they were made the innocent victims of malice, 
hatred and jealousy — fell into each others arms. 
Delia wept like a child. Walton held her an his 
arms and looked down into her lovely face until the 
tears welled up from his own eyes and mingled with 
hers. Neither could speak for several seconds. At 
last Delia said — sobbed rather : 

‘‘You have been true to your vow — true to my 
people I ” 

“ Yes, darling; and, better still, I have been true 
to you ! ” 

“ How about Eva ? ” said she, suddenly remember- 
ing their last interview, and trembling at her own 
words. 

“ False — false as the adversary of our souls ! She 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


319 


has added insult to injury; she has mocked my de- 
I votion, taunted my sincerity, and not content with 
1 a\\f wrote me a letter saying she hated me ; that she 
j regretted nothing so much as her foolish love for me.’* 
“Yes — you have done your duty to yourself, to 
j Eva Duvall, to your country, and — “ 

“To the best, truest, noblest woman in the uni- 
verse — yourself! ” 

The heavy, roaring clatter of horses’ feet were 
heard close at hand. The regiment, four abreast, 
drew near. 

“ I must go now, dearest. Duty calls ; I must obey, 
but I will return t6 you, if God lets me live I 
Good-by ! ’’ and he kissed her a fond adieu, and 
turning to his men, hat in hand, bowed low to them 
as they passed. 


CHAPTER XLV. 


A MYSTERY. 


“ A spirit passed before my face, 
discern the form thereof.” 


It stood still, but I could not 


^TTVORREST had raided west Tennessee and Ken- 
V tucky, almost to Cairo, and it now became 
necessary to employ a line of military posts 
reaching all the way from the Mississippi northward 
to the Tennessee. 

Near the town of Clifford, in Hickman county, 
Kentucky, was stationed a battalion of infantry, 


320 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


composed of river men, possessing all the peculiarities 
of that class. They were commanded by a man very 
like themselves, also a river man. He was well 
known and very popular with his soldiers, having 
spent the greater part of his life in the same service. 
It was most difficult to control such men, but Col. 
Logan was equal to the task, for he had learned in 
the same school. 

The Union could boast no truer patriot than 
Philip Logan. His sympathies had always been 
with the North in the quarrel about slavery. He 
was, and had been for years, ready to fight for.his 
convictions whenever an opportunity should present 
itself, but he had failed to raise his children to hate 
slavery. They were intensely Southern in senti- 
ment. 


Mrs. Parker, nee Embree, was now an old woman. 
She had given her heart and hand to Gabriel Parker 
in early womanhood with that confiding, trustful 
spirit which leaves no room for doubt, no margin for 
disappointment. She was a wife, a mother and a 
wreck, so far as this life is concerned, almost before 
she had outlived her girlhood. Had the child been 
spared to her, she might have borne the misery of 
her lonely, wretched life ; might, in tender love for 
her son, have forgotten the villain who married her 
only for spite. But the loss of the child proved a 
heavy blow to the unhappy mother — a blow from 
which she never wholly recovered. The neighbors 
said she was a little queer — a mild term for insanity. 
She was perfectly rational on ail other subjects 
save this. She would talk of her child as though he 


THE BATTLE OE LIFE. 


321 


was still a little boy, and would search for him about 
the place, as though he had but recently disappeared. 
When the spell was off, however, she recognized 
that nearly forty years had elapsed since that terrible 
night when she was cruelly robbed of her only child. 

At the crossing of the turnpikes, near the Embree 
mansion. Col. Logan was stationed, with orders to 
guard the roads in order to intercept the irregular 
cavalry of the enemy that infested the country in 
every direction. He took up his headquarters in a 
large, vacant brick building, known as the Parker 
mansion, and supposed to be haunted. 

The colonel was not superstitious, but he listened 
with much interest to the strange stories of a woman 
dressed in white who flitted in and out through the 
great, arched, cavernous doors at all hours of the 
night. Some said she passed in and out through 
the windows as easily and naturally as a pigeon 
could fly. The ghost had also been seen at the 
bridge where David Embree was killed. 

The next day after taking up his residence iti the 
haunted house. Col. Logan visited the Embree man- 
sion near by in response to a friendly invitation from 
the proprietor, who, though Southern in sentiment, 
had yet taken no active part in the war, and was 
regarded with favor by both sides. He was the 
youngest brother of Mrs. Parker, and was now a 
man of family, being over thirty years of age. 

Mr. Embree had prepared a great feast for Col. 
Logan and his staff, and Mrs. Parker insisted on 
doing the honors of the occasion. She dressed her- 
self in white, with a cap trimmed with real white 
lace. She also insisted on wearing her most costly 
20 


322 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE, 


jewels, of which she had a goodly store. The family 
always humored her whims, and she was allowed to 
dress for this occasion like a young girl of sixteen 
for a charity ball. Her white hair fell in beautiful 
curls below her dainty cap and was lost in the snowy 
fleeces of an old-fashioned lace collar fastened in 
front by a magnificent diamond pin. Her own 
family were surprised to see her so gay and happy. 
Her deportment was genteel, however, in the highest 
degree. 

Col. Logan, a stranger to the family and their 
history, saw nothing, heard nothing to surprise him 
in the least. He thought Mrs. Parker was a little 
fantastic in her dress, but very beautiful and highly 
accomplished. 

The feast was perfect, and the cheer as good as 
heart could wish. Logan remarked to his lieutenant 
as they rode away : 

“ That old woman did me much honor ; she was 
as polite and genteel as a woman could well be. Had 
she been brought up in a king’s palace she could not 
have done the honors of the occasion better. I am 
anxious to know more of her, and shall visit the 
mansion again before long.” 

True to his promise, Philip Logan soon renewed 
the pleasant relations which had so agreeably im- 
pressed him. N o matter what the proprietor thought 
of him: the ladies were sincere in their kindness, 
especially Mrs. Parker, who had taken a strange and 
unaccountable fancy to the Federal commander, 
hence it was not as a stranger, embarrassed with un- 
pleasant doubts and misgivings, that Colonel Logan 
again crossed the threshold of the Embree mansion. 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


323 


|; He was alone this time. When he entered the draw- 
! ing-room, unannounced, he found none of the family 
1 waiting to receive him. He took a seat near a center 
table, upon which lay a photograph album. The 
pictures were of strangers. He turned from one to 
another carelessly. At last his eyes fell upon a well 
I executed picture in India ink that startled him. It 
I was the likeness of his only daughter. He had not 
a doubt of this. 

His harshness to Delia at once smote him to the 
heart. He rose from his seat and paced the floor. 
He had thought never to shed another tear — he had 
believed his heart steeled against such tender emo- 
tions — but he wept in spite of himself. While he 
was pacing the floor, tormented by those bitter mem- 
ories, Mrs. Parker quietly entered the room. She 
rapidly took in the situation, but without under- 
standing the cause of the Colonel’s grief. 

Logan spoke cheerfully as though nothing had 
happened. 

Mrs. Parker at first pretended not to notice his 
strange emotion, but, woman-like, she thought of 
little else, and gradually and ingeniously directed 
the conversation to that point, earnestly hoping to 
obtain an explanation. She succeeded beyond her 
fondest expectation. The great secret, which, de- 
spite the Colonel’s iron will, had wrenched bitter 
tears from his eyes, was calmly related to this kind- 
hearted, sympathetic old lady. She listened patiently. 
When Logan finished, she said : 

“ Colonel, you have made a great mistake. This 
is not the picture of your daughter. It is a strange 
delusion, very, but this is my portrait, painted the 


324 


THE BA TTL E OF LIFE. 


year before I was married.” Then followed a brief, 
impassioned history of her sad life, to which Logan 
added his own. 

Xf the two were interested in each other at first, 
that interest was now increased a hundred fold. 
Neither dared to express the great hope that lighted 
their sad, dreary, wretched hearts, but both mutually, 
silently resolved to know more of the other. 

The strange family likeness — Delia was always 
considered the very image of her father — had excited 
a deep interest in the mind of Philip Logan, and he 
had strange thoughts that night as he lay in his ham- 
mock — thoughts heretofore dormant in his breast. 
The storm-tossed adventurer was thinking, dreaming 
of hi^ mother. 

Scarcely a day now passed without a visit to the 
Embree farm house. The same thought thrilled the 
heart of each. They longed to fall into each others 
arms saying : “ My mother ! ” My son ! ” 

The country for miles around literally swarmed 
with armed Rebels. It required the closest vigilance 
on the part of Colonel Logan to prevent surprises, 
and to this end he had given the strictest orders to 
those on guard. The day just closed had been 
fraught with much excitement, and it was several 
hours before Colonel Logan fell asleep, after return- 
ing from the Embree farm house. The reports of his 
subordinates afforded much food for thought, but he 
was thinking most of the strange woman, who, as a 
girl, so much resembled his own daughter. He was 
thinking of her eventful history and his own. It was 
surely enough to make him restless, ill at ease. At 
last he fell asleep. He dreamed of a little child — 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE, 


325 


first it was his son, then Delia, then himself — being 
carried away at night by an ugly, villainous-looking 
man who held his great, rough hand over his mouth 
to suppress his childish wail for help. On, on, the 
horseman rode as swift almost as the wind. At last, 
reaching a covered bridge, a man rose from behind 
an arch and caught the horse by the bridle. The 
horseman leaned forward and — 

The long roll was beating — the whole camp was 
in an uproar. 


About two o’clock that night the sentinel at the 
bridge saw an object dressed in white advancing 
slowly down the turnpike. 

It was a still, clear night. The moon, in her last 
quarter, shed a soft, mellow light over the landscape, 
and the object was in plain view. It advanced slowly 
and fearlessly towards the bridge. 

Halt!”* 

The object advanced still nearer. 

Halt ! ” 

The sentinel raised his musket, cocked and pre- 
sented the weapon. The sharp metallic click of the 
strong, new lock was distinctly heard by the sentinel 
beyond the bridge. He held his breath and listened. 
Halt 1 ” 

Then a loud report of a musket rang out on the 
still air of night, answered by a dozen echoes from 
the neighboring hills and hollows. The drums beat 
the alarm. Colonel Logan sprang from his ham- 
mock. His horse stood ready, saddled and bridled, 
at the door of his tent. Ordering the men into line, 
he rode rapidly in the direction of the bridge. Ar- 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE, 


326 

riving there, he found the sentinel kneeling by the 
prostrate form of a woman. 

“ My God ! Colonel,” said the soldier, in a tone of 
voice that indicated terror and deep contrition of 
heart, “ I have made a terrible mistake ! I have 
killed a woman ! ” 

Colonel Logan knelt by the side of the dying 
woman, and took her head in his lap. The moon, 
just risen, shone full in her face. It was Mrs. Parker! 

Do you know me ? ” sobbed the colonel. “ This 
is Colonel Logan ! ” 

“ My child ! my dear child 1 ” was all she said. 

Clay Embree, the brother of Mrs. Parker, and 
proprietor of the Embree plantation, found on ex- 
amining the effects of his sister after her death, a 
will in which she had bequeathed her property, in- 
cluding real estate and money to the amount of 
$20,000, to Col. Philip Logan. 

The will had been drawn up by a notary and was 
legally attested. Mrs. Parker had gone to Clifford 
the day'before her death for the sole purpose of exe- 
cuting this will. 

Embree could easily have destroyed the document 
and the party most interested would never have 
known of its existence, but he was an honorable 
man, just and upright in all his dealings, and his 
sense of justice forbade an act so dishonorable. He 
sent for Col. Logan. 

There were strange thoughts flitting through the 
mind of Logan as he crossed the threshold of this 
elegant Southern mansion and saw evidences of un- 
mistakable grief and mourning within. He was 
guiltless of the woman’s death ; would they treat 


THE BA TTLE OF LIFE, 


327 


him as an innocent party to the homicide? This 
painful question was soon answered — soon set at 
rest. Not a vestige of bitterness could he observe 
in the manner of his reception. Embree knew the 
circumstances under which his unfortunate sister had 
lost her life; knew that she was crazy on the subject 
of her lost child. He knew that she often left her 
room of nights, going alone to the Parker mansion, 
or else to the bridge, returning at last to her own 
room, and often so^'quietly as not to disturb any of 
the family. It was in one of those night-walks that 
she had been mistaken for a Rebel in disguise and 
shot. While Embree knew that Mrs. Parker was 
crazy in one sense, he was positive that she was sane 
in every other respect She had appended a note 
to her will,,>explaining her reasons for believing that 
Philip Logan was her son, and those reasons were 
satisfactory to Mr. Embree. He felt it to be his 
duty to inform Col. Logan of his sister’s will, and 
explain to ‘that individual the circumstances which 
influenced the unfortunate woman to execute this 
will. 

It was a great surprise to Logan. He learned 
from Embree that the money was on deposit at Clif- 
ford. Handing him the will, 'the latter said : 

“ Whether you are her son or not, she evidently 
believed you were ; and that belief must have been 
strong indeed, for there are others whom she dearly 
loved ; others whom she would have gladly helped — 
they are not mentioned in the will. Here is the doc- 
ument. As soon as it is probated the money is 
yours.” 

The next day after this strange interview with Mr, 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


328 

Embree, Col. Logan received orders to march. His 
men were now mounted, having impressed horses 
from the plantations for that purpjose. The order to 
march was sudden and imperative, hence Logan had 
not time to attend to the business pertaining to the 
will. He expected to^return after the raid and have 
it admitted to probate. 

The line of march was down the Mississippi river. 
A fleet of gun-boats accompanied the expedition. 
The design of the raid was to destroy the last re- 
maining vestige of Rebel shipping on the river and its 
tributaries, the objective point being Duvall Glen. 


CHAPTER XLVI. 


A MESSAGE. 

One message doth approve the other. If he is false, he stands re- 
proved; if true, there’s vindication, forgiveness, love, devotion — all is 
well again.” 

/T\HE Federal army swept the Mississippi as with 
JL the besom of destruction. All the strong- 
holds from Island Number Ten to New Or- 
leans had fallen. Every line of direct communica- 
tion between the eastern and western divisions of the 
Confederacy was cut off. The Confederate Govern- 
ment was now compelled to employ a number of 
trusty couriers whose business it was to carry mes- 
sages to and from the armies west of the river. This 
service was of such grave importance, and required 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


329 

so much tact and shrewdness, that none but the best 
men in either army were employed. 

Paul Donoho, the actor, had left England soon 
after the fall of Fort Sumpter, arriving at Richmond 
a few weeks after the removal of the seat of govern- 
ment to that city. At first he was appointed to a 
position on the staff of Gen. Stewart, serving with 
judgment, fidelity and bravery in a number of ardu- 
ous campaigns underthat distinguished cavalry man. 
At last, when men were needed in the difficult and 
hazardous business of carrying messages to and from 
the western armies, Paul Donoho, or John Logan, 
was detailed and ordered to report to the chief of 
the secret service at Richmond. He responded 
without a moment’s hesitation. As he bore the rank 
of colonel, he was permitted to retain his rank. He 
was sent at once on a special mission to Shreveport. 

Duvall Glen was the point at which he was direct- 
ed to cross the river. The Duvalls and Earlys were 
known to be faithful to the cause. They kept sever- 
al boats hidden away in the warehouse, and old Ab- 
ner was ready at all hours of the night to cross the 
faithful couriers going and coming between the two 
armies. But a great change had come over this ser- 
vice of late. A gun-boat had recently passed up the 
river. They landed a lot of men who searched for 
boats but found none. They captured old Abner, 
however, and under a threat of instant death, fright- 
ened him so greatly that he admitted that Duvall 
Glen had been a crossing point for the rebels. If it 
had been all that Abner affirmed, the whole establish- 
ment ought to be burned out, as the most effectual 
means of preventing danger and trouble in the future. 


330 


THE BA TTLE OF LIFE. 


Thus reasoned the Federal commander, but fortun- 
ately for the Duvalls and Earlys, this officer had no 
orders to destroy the property, but when he made 
his report, Philip Logan was at once ordered down 
the river for this express business. 

The natural impulse of Eva’s heart was to accept 
as true the cold andr heartless act of which Walton 
stood accused at the bar of her candid judgment. A 
woman less true, less a martyr to the bonds of plight- 
ed love, would not have hesitated a moment longer. 
As long as there was room for doubt, however, she 
gave her lover the benefit of every doubt. Perhaps 
he was true to her after all. 

When Eva read of the fight between Early and 
Walton in the Daily Times, she was overwhelmed 
with grief. The paper stated that Early’s wound 
was probably mortal. The young man had re- 
quested Captain Lewis to take him on to New Or- 
leans and place him in the hospital. If his wound 
was not fatal, he was anxious that his father and 
mother should be kept ignorant of the circum- 
stance until the worst was over. The Captain did 
as requested. The first news the Earlys obtained 
was through the columns of the Times. Eva felt 
strongly tempted to break over all bounds of rsstraint 
and rush to her lover’s side, for the paper stated 
that Walton had surrendered to the civil authori- 
ties and was then in jail. Eva had plenty of money 
of her own on deposit at New Orleans. Walton, 
doubtless, had but little. He needed help now, 
and must have it. She would stand by him in this 
terrible emergency. She reflected long and serious- 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE, 


331 


ly over every possible means of rendering her lover 
assistance, for he was doubtless impelled to strike 
this fatal blow on her account. 

She sent for Abner and told the honest, faithful 
old man all that was in her heart. With sobs and 
tears she implored his help. He was the only per- 
son on the plantation she dared to trust, and even 
he was the devoted friend of Allan Early. But there 
was no treachery in Abner’s nature. If he refused 
to assist her, he would not betray her secret. She 
promised to free the old man if he would carry a 
message to Sidney Walton. The old darkey shook 
his head. She would free his wife. Abner was still 
unmoved. At last, growing wild with impatience, 
Eva raised her hand above her head and in the 
most solemn and impassioned manner said : 

I swear, before high heaven, that I will free you 
and your wife — and — all your children ! I will do 
more : I will give them a start in the world; a chance 
to earn an honest living ! ” 

“ Dat’s rite to de pint, Miss; rite to the pint. Yes, 
make de mefage and I takes it — takes it if I die on 
de road. But,” added he, dubiously, how will I 
git away frum old Missus?” 

111 fix that, Abner. I’ll write you a pass and 
sign mamma’s name to it.” 

Yes, indeed ! You’s talkin’ now, honey, You’s 
an angel, you is. All you need am wings.” 

“ If I had wings, Abner,” said Eva, laughing, **1 
would hardly need your service. I could fly to my 
lover and back again before they had time to miss 
me.” ^ • 

Eva wrote her lover a long letter, brim full of tea-* 


332 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


der sympathy. She then filled out a blank check 
for five hundred dollars, payable to Sidney Walton. 
Abner was told to get ready by ten o’clock that 
night. He must go on foot to the next landing be- 
low and take the first steamer for New Orleans. 

Abner placed the package in his bundle and 
trudged off, negro fashion, to the next station, six 
miles below. In less than an hour a strange steamer 
anchored at the landing to take on a few bales of 
cotton, and Abner quietly went on board. The cap- 
tain asked for his pass, which the old man readily 
produced, also a letter signed by Mrs. Duvall ex- 
plaining Abner’s mission. This was all satisfactory 
so far. Abner was shown a place to sleep among 
the freight on the lower deck and was told not to 
come above, as negro passengers were not allowed 
that privilege. 

It so happened that the Earlys were on the same 
boat. They had read of Allan’s dangerous condition 
and were on their way to the city. Early recognized 
Abner, but being an honorable man in every sense 
of the word, did not consider it any of his business 
to meddle with the old man or his mission. He only 
asked a few questions. The old darkey lied to him, 
of course. He said his old mistress had sent him to 
see about some machinery for the sugar mill. This 
ended the conversation between them, but Mrs. 
Early was gravely suspicious of evil. She wanted 
her husband to search the old man’s bundle, but 
Early positively refused to do so. The scheming 
matron was silenced, but not satisfied. 

Soon after leaving the landing, a violent storm 
arose, and the steamer was compelled to tie up for 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


333 


the night. The fires were banked, and all aboard, 
except Mrs. Early, were soon sound asleep. Know- 
ing that it was not impossible, under the circum- 
stances, for her to reach the place where old Abner 
was sleeping, she resolved to do so — resolved to see 
the contents of that mysterious bundle. She groped 
her way silently and slowly to the place, and lighting 
a match, took a view of the surroundings. She 
trembled lest she might be discovered, but did not 
falter. Stooping, she quietly removed the bundle 
from under old Abner’s head, ?nd so gently as not 
to disturb his slumber. Going to her private state- 
room, she examined the bur die and laid violent 
hands upon the contents. B5 moistening the seals, 
she opened the letters without marring the envelopes. 
She had a subtle purpose in this. Her writing was 
like Eva’s. She could very easily change the mean- 
ing of this loving epistle into a message of hate. 
She did so briefly. Eva was made to say that she 
hated, loathed her former lover. The check for five 
hundred dollars was also made to answer a different, 
yea, a malicious purpose. It was returned to Eva 
without a line of explanation, as if coming from 
Walton, who scorned to make any explanations. 

Abner found Walton and delivered the insulting 
letter, and returned with a verbal message express- 
ing the young man’s hearty contempt for Eva. The 
old darkey, astonished beyond measure, did not at- 
tempt an explanation. Thus Eva’s scheme to con- 
ciliate her lover resulted only in placing them further 
apart. The reader can readily perceive that this last 
act in the drama placed an impassable barrier be- 
tween the hopes and aspirations of Sidney Walton 


334 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


and Eva Duvall, the only wonder being that Eva 
should make still another effort at reconciliation. 
She was actuated in so doing by one circumstance 
alone. Abner had informed his young mistress that 
the Earlys were on the same boat, and knew of his 
presence and destination. Perhaps Mrs. Early had 
tampered with the correspondence. Here was a 
small margin for hope. As to Walton, he could im- 
agine no reason in the world why he should not hate 
Eva Duvall, and, with sufficient cause and provoca- 
tion, he was an excellent hater. 

Begging the reader’s pardon for this retrogression, 
we resume the thread of the story where we left off. 

Paul Donaho spent several days at Duvall Glen, 
waiting an opportunity to cross over. The ladies 
were delighted with his gallantry, and enjoyed his 
interesting conversation very much indeed. The 
pleasure was mutual. Never had Col. Donaho en- 
joyed himself so well before. When duty demanded 
that he should return to Virginia, he left very reluc- 
tantly, vowing to himself that if spared he would 
come again, if not in the capacity of a messenger, he 
would return as an honored guest. 

When he took leave of Eva she said : 

“Colonel Donoho, I have unbounded confidence 
in your gallantry. I believe that you would risk 
your life, if necessary, to succor and befriend a lady. 
I beg of you to deliver this letter and package into 
the hands of Col. Sidney H. Walton. Do not send 
it by mail, nor trust it by express; do not confide it 
to other hands, but deliver it to him yourself. You 
promise? ” 

“ With all my heart.” 

“ Thanks, a thousand thanks ! ” 


THE BA TTLE OF LIFE, 


335 


CHAPTER XLVII. 

THE BATTLE. 

“ Shall victor exult, or in death be laid low, 

With his back to the field, and his feet to the foe ! ” 


Gen. Wheeler, you are ordered to send one of your best mounted, 
best disciplined regiments of<:avalry at once to Duvall Glen to protect 
Confederate stores in and near that point. The colonel commanding 
will report to Gen. Churchill for further orders. 

Braxton Bragg, 

Major General. 


r \ EN. WHEELER, on receiving this order, sent 
at once for Colonel Walton. Arriving at the 
General’s tent, Walton was shown the above 
dispatch. He read it slowly and deliberately and 


then asked : 


“ What is your wish. General?” 

“ Your regiment will start at once for Duvall 
Glen.” 


One blast from the bugle and a thousand men 
stood erect with saddle blankets grasped in their 
two hands. Another, and one thousand saddles 
were placed upon the backs of as many horses. An- 
other note, and a thousand feet were placed in the 
stirrup. Another, and one thousand men vaulted 
into the saddle. “ Into line — forward — march ! ” and 
the regiment, two abreast, filed out of camp in the 
direction of Duvall Glen. 

Gen. Churchill had been ordered to approach Du- 
vall Glen from the opposite side of the river and to 
bring with him a battery of artillery. When the 


336 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


Federal gunboats — steamboats protected by cotton 
bales — reached a short bend in the river about a 
mile above Duvall Glen, and at a point where the 
channel runs nearest the western shore, they were 
suddenly opened upon by a furious cannonade from 
Churchill’s artillery. The boats were considerably 
disabled and were compelled to return several miles 
up the river, but the cavalry under Colonel Logan 
pushed rapidly forward in the direction of Duvall 
Landing. It was about daylight when the cannon- 
ading commenced, and Logan’s troops came in sight 
of Duvall mansion a few minutes later. Their line 
of march could be distinctly seen from the veranda. 

Gazing intently at the approaching enemy, Eva 
suddenly saw a wreath of blue smoke wliich seemed 
to rise above the heads of the advance guard. 
When she looked again, she beheld a number of 
Confederate cavalrymen, rapidly forming in line of 
battle. In this supreme moment of anxiety, a terrific 
sound was heard from the opposite side of the river, 
and a large shell came shrieking through the air, 
passing directly over the mansion and falling into 
the growing cane near the Federal line. 

“ Boys,” said Col. Logan, “ we must not wait for 
the Rebels to make the attack. They have the ad- 
vantage this morning. They are feeling for our 
position with their big guns. We must force the 
fight. Forward, march ! ’ 

Out through the cane field into open view of the 
Confederates rushed the Federal cavalry. There 
was a sharp volley from the Federal carbines. The 
Rebels carried pistols and sabres only. They waited 
for closer range. 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE, 


337 


“ Forward,” came down the line. “ Steady — take 
deliberate aim — forward!” and the Confederate 
column threw itself furiously upon the advancing 
foe. 

Cold steel I 

The twang of nearly two thousand sabres issuing 
from their scabbards rang out in answer to the dying 
echo of the last deadly fire, now hushed and awed 
into silence by a more deadly weapon. Two braver 
regiments never met upon the field of battle. The 
struggle was of brief duration. Such struggles ever 
are. 

Logan and Walton were everywhere in the thick- 
est of the fight, A private of one of the Kentucky 
companies seized the bridle of Logan’s horse and 
demanded his surrender. 

He was mistaken in his man. Logan shot him 
dead the next instant. A comrade, close at hand, 
drew his sword and plunged the weapon through the 
body of Logan, who fell heavily to the ground, 
mortally wounded. The Federals were routed — 
driven with terrible slaughter from the field. When 
the battle was over, Col. Walton rode quietly over 
the field. He was told that the Federal colonel had 
fallen, mortally wounded, and with that instinct of 
human kindness which has ever characterized him 
through life, went at once to that portion of the 
field desig^nated as the point where the Federal colo- 
nel was now breathing his last. He did not know 
the wounded man. Neither Walton nor Logan had 
recognized each other during the fierce struggle just 
closed. He found Logan lying on his side, resting 
his head upon his arm. His clothes were red with 
21 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


338 

blood. Advancing nearer, he recognized the wound- 
ed man, and said : 

Col. Logan, I am sorry to see you in such plight. 
Is your wound serious?” 

Logan tried to rise, but could not. Propping his 
head on his elbow, and looking fiercely into Walton’s 
face, the wounded man said : 

What’s that to you, you d d traitor ! you 

d d renegade ? ” 

Walton was amazed at his audacity, but remained 
silent. Logan continued : 

“Youd d traitor! You son of a villain 1 Why 

have you come here to feast your eyes upon my 
misery ? ” 

Walton did not reply. He saw that Logan was 
gasping for breath — dying. He did not apprehend 
the least danger. He knew that Logan was a des- 
perate man, but how terribly desperate, he had not 
dreamed. He was aroused by the sharp click of a 
pistol in the hand of the wounded man. He sprang 
forward and attempted to snatch the weapon from 
his hand. 

Too late ! 

Logan fired, and the bullet entered Col. Walton’s 
breast. He fell heavily forward upon his face at the 
side of his deadly foe. 

“ My mission is now finished,” said Logan, 
calmly. “ I have killed the scoundrel whoT)roke up 
my family and my home — who destroyed my happi- 
ness forever — who • caused my son to hate and dis- 
obey me — who caused my daughter to leave her 
parents and become a homeless, friendless waif! Oh, 
Delia ! De-li-a De — ! ” He was dead. 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


339 


Duvall Glen had been saved. Mrs. Duvall and 
Eva had watched the battle with terrible anxiety, 
knowing that a Federal victory meant ruin to all 
they called their own. Looking out over the battle 
field, they could now see none but Confederates. 
Their glasses revealed only dead and wounded Fed- 
erals. When the sound of battle was over, Mrs. 
Duvall hurried to her room and wrote the following 
note to the unknown commander of the victorious 
Confederates : 

Honored Sir : — This is to inform you that the hospitalities of Du- 
vall Mansion are at your service. Send your wounded to me and 
mine that we may nurse and care for them. With unboundei grati- 
tude to you and your brave soldiers, I close by adding that if the offi- 
cer in command should be pleased to come himself, his visit will be 
esteemed a great honor. Emily Duvall. 

P. S. — As the weather is very warm and your soldiers are doubtless 
tired from marching and fighting, I will, if permitted, send my slaves 
to assist in burying the dead. • E. D. 

When Abner reached the camp with Mrs. Duvall’s 
letter, he enquired fur de kermander,” saying he 
had a message from his mistress. A sentinel point- 
ed to a tall pine tree near by and said : 

‘‘ You will find Colonel Walton under that tree.” 

“ Kurnel Waltun ! ” echoed Abner. “ Wonder if 
dat’s Sibney Waltun what caused sich a fuss in our 
family. 'Spec it’s de berry chap, hesef.” 

When he reached the point designated, he beheld 
the Colonel lying upon a blanket, pale as death, 
while the surgeon of the regiment knelt at his side 
staunching an ugly wound in his breast. Walton at 
last noticed Abner, and said : 

“ What does the old man want? ” 

Abner bowed very low and said ; 


340 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE, 


“ Massa Kurnel Waltun, I’se berry sorry to see 
you’s hurt. I’se got a letter frum de or mistress fur 
you, an’ I’se cum to fotch it.” 

After carefully reading the above letter, Col. Wal- 
ton told his lieutenant to have all the men who were 
severely wounded sent to Duvall Glen. Asking the 
surgeon to prop him up in a sitting posture, he wrote 
the following note to Mrs. Duvall : 

Dear Madam : — In behalf of my poor, unfortunate soldiers, I thank 
you for your kind offer. As to burying the dead, I accept the assis- 
tance kindly. Let the overseer accompany the negroes, and tell him 
to report to me for orders. I am sorry to inform you that I am one of 
the wounded, and that my wound is quite severe. I thank you for 
your kind invitation, but must respectfully decline your proffered hos- 
pitality. I am unfortunately “a Yankee adventurer.” Had you 
known who gained this victory — who saved you and yours at the risk 
of his life — you would not have offered him the hospitality of your 
splendid Lome. The first and /ast time I had the misfortune to enter 
your drawing-room I was cruelly insulted,* but I must say in the most 
respectful and genteel manner. I hav^ not forgotten this. No, you 
did not, do not, want me to honor you with a visit ; therefore I re- 
spectfully decline. Allow me to subscribe myself your obedient ser- 
vant and protector — so far as duty calls, Sidney H. Walton, 

Colonel Commanding. 

P. S.— Should Miss Duvall deign to enquire about me, tell her that 
I have probably this day received a death wound in protecting her 
ntagnificent home from the torch, and herself from insult — that I do not 
regret the sacrifice — it was my duty. S. H. W. 

When Abner returned and handed Mrs. Duvall the 
note, mother and daughter were sitting together up- 
on the balcony facing the river. Ere Mrs. Duvall 
had read a dozen lines, she clutched the letter nerv- 
ously in her hand, and turning to Eva said ; 

“ Go to your room, child ; you must not see those 
wounded soldiers. Go at once. They will he here 
in a few minutes.” 

As soon as Eva had retired, Mrs. Duvall sent for 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


34J: 

Abner. In a moment the old darkey, hat in hand, 
stood humbly at her side. 

‘•Did you see Colonel Walton?” 

“ I did, Mjss — I seed him wid my two eyes — I did 
fur a fact.” 

“ Is he badly wounded ? ” 

“Food fur wums. Miss Emily! food fur wums! 
De angels gwine to cum fur dat man -’fore ter-mori er 
night I ” 

“ Have you mentioned the fact of having seen 
Col. Walton to any one else? ” 

“Jest to you, Miss Emily; no one else.” 

“ Very well, see that you do not. Eva must not 
||pow of this. Do you understand ? ” 

“ Berry well, Miss ; I will not open my head to a 
libin’ sole.” 

“If Walton dies,” said Mrs. Duvall, musingly, 
pacing to and fro in much agitation, “ Eva must not 
know of it until all is over. There might be another 
scene. She might go to him in spite of all I could 
do. The truth is, I no longer blame the dear child, 
for Walton is a noble young fellow. This battle and 
the letter he writes declining my invitation are quite 
enough to convince me of his sterling manhood.' 
Would to God I had never interfered in this matter! 
Had it not been for the Earlys all might have been 
well! This man is worth a thousand Earlys ! I have 
gone too far, however, to retract, but I can do one 
thing without compromising my dignity. I can 
henceforth remain passive and allow the young peo- 
ple to marry, provided Walton lives and should re- 
new his suit. May God forgive me fy thus wrong- 
ing this brave, generous, noble young man! I 


342 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


thought I was doing my duty, but Eva has taught 
me a lesson I might have learned without any other 
teacher than my own heart, for I have loved, and 
loved truly.” 

It was nearly three weeks before Delia heard of 
her father’s death. The news disturbed her very 
much^ for to her it had a deeper, more 'significant 
meaning than the reader is aware of, •but fully known 
and appreciated by his only daughter. She had at 
last heard from her mother, and knew that she was 
dying of a broken heart and in wretched poverty. 
She would go to her at once, and so informed Mrs. 
Andrews. 

“ She will not refuse to see me now,” said Delia, 
sadly, as she commenced her preparations to return. 

Mrs. Andrews was loth to part with her friend and 
companion. The children, all of whom had learned 
to love the sweet-tempered and generous governess, 
shed many bitter tears at parting. When Delia 
kissed them good-by, she promised to return again 
in a little while. “ God only knows, if ever,” said 
Mrs. Andrews, when she parted reluctantly and sadly 
Vith Delia, saying, “remember, dear, that my house 
is your home unless you find a better.” 

Delia was not mistaken. Mrs. Logan, utterly 
crushed in spirit, received her daughter with open 
arms. Delia had saved much of her earnings and 
was able to take good care of the invalid during the 
few remaining weeks of her life. Neither of them 
ever alluded to the wretched past. Several times 
Mrs. Logan commenced apologies for her harshness, 
but Delia would beg of her not to mention the past. 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE, 


343 

She would kiss her mother the old, fond, affec- 
tionate way, saying: 

“ There now, let me be good to you, mother dear ! 
That’s all I live for now — all I desire in this world.” 

Sometimes the tears would come to the cold, 
dark, hollow eyes of thein/alid. It was a strange 
sight to Delia — something she had never seen before 
— and it caused her to draw lovingly nearer to the 
side of the proud, haughty woman who had so miser- 
ably outlived all her ambitious hopes. 


Before Logan was buried his pockets were search- 
ed. A gold watch and the will of Mrs. Parker were 
all of value found on his person. They were placed 
in the hands of Col. Walton for safe keeping. The 
will was not altogether a mystery to Walton, for he 
remembered that Mrs. Parker had figured in the con- 
fession of Denis Piper, but the chasm between the 
confession and the will was too wide for human im- 
agination to span. As the will concerned Delia, 
however, he resolved to. treasure it with great care. 

The return of Walton’s regiment was slow and 
very painful, at least to the wounded man. His lieu- 
tenant begged to send him to Duvall Glen, but the 
colonel refused to go, and for the best of reasons. 

The second night after leaving Duvall Glen, and 
soon after the regiment had gone into camp, a 
stranger, dressed in the uniform of a colonel, hailed 
the guard and asked to be taken at once to the col- 
onel’s headquarters. 

The stranger was no other than John Logan, 
though he introduced himself as Paul Donaho, of 
England, now a colonel in the Confederate army. 


344 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


This was a painful duty to Logan. He had already 
fallen desperately in love with Eva, and he had every 
reason to believe that this was a message of love to 
his friend Walton. From Eva’s manner, he had 
rightly guessed that her lover was no favorite with 
Mrs. Duvall. Reasoning from this standpoint, it was 
plain to Logan that if Walton was left in ignorance 
of Eva’s devotion, he might never renew his suit. 
Something was evidently wrong between the lovers, 
else Walton had gone to Duvall Glen with the rest 
of the wounded. How easy it would be to suppress 
this message and leave Eva no room for hope. He 
could then make love to the beautiful heiress himself, 
and probably win her heart and hand in marriage. 
It was with such thoughts as these that he approach- 
ed Walton’s tent that night. 

** Colonel Walton,” said the surgeon, “here is a 
gentleman who wishes to see you.” 

“Give the gentleman a seat,” said Walton, -open- 
ing his eyes in a languid manner and gazing half un- 
consciously at Logan, who drew a camp stool near 
the couch and said in his old, gentle tender way : 

“ Sidney, do you know me ? ” 

Walton opened his eyes in astonishment at the 
sound of Logan’s voice and said: 

“ Why, yes ; this is John Logan.” 

The young men were delighted to meet again, and 
a hurried conversation passed between them until 
the surgeon entered and admonished his patient not 
to excite or worry himself by too much talking. 
Discharging this duty, he again retired, leaving the 
young men once more alone. 

Logan was unconscious of the fact that Walton 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


345 


loved his sister, but he knew that his friend loved, 
or had loved Eva Duvall. At last Logan asked : 

“ Why were you not left at Duvall Glen? You 
are in no condition for marching.” 

“For the best reasons in the world, John. Be- 
cause the Duvalls hate me. Because Mrs. Duvall 
and her daughter have insulted me past forgiveness, 
past oblivion. I loved Eva Duvall once, but can 
never love her more ! ” 

“ Thank God for that ! ” mused Logan. This 
takes a terrible burden off my heart. I will not de- 
liver Eva’s letter. There’s no use ; he hates the dear 
girl. Others may be to blame, but it is not my busi- 
ness to settle quarrels between jealous lovers.” 


CHAPTER XLVIII. 


CHICKAMAUGA. 


“ Where honor sits, though seated on a billow 
Rising as high as heaven, would not these soldiers, 

Like so many sea-gods, charge up to it ? ” 

/Ty HE Confederate army retreated slowly before 
I the well-organized forces of Gen. Rosecrans, 
but they were not beaten, as the sequel plainly 
shows. It was the Fabian policy of the old Roman 
re-enacted in the nineteenth century. 

Gen. Rosecrans, the Federal general, fell into the 
natural error of mistaking evacuation for surrender, 
pursuit for victory. 

Gen. Rosecrans did just what the enemy expected, 


346 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


hoped he would do: followed them into the moun- 
tains of eastern Tennessee and northern Georgia. 

The concentration of the various divisions of the j 
Confederate army was a task not easily or quickly 
accomplished. Gen. Rosecrans was a good general. 
He had calculated all the chances but one, and yet 
that one chance, omitted, brought defeat to his 
army. If he knew anything of the existence of the 
Lynchburg railroad, he certainly left it out in his 
calculations of the impending struggle. 

When everything was ready at Chickamauga, 
Gen. Longstreet’s corps quietly took the cars at 
Richmond, and while night spread her sable mantle 
over the world, this gallant army, so often victorious 
in the campaigns of Virginia, sped southward at the 
rate of forty miles an hour. Thus twenty-five thou- 
sand veterans, not dreamed of in his calculations, 
confronted the Federal commander. 

With the arrival of Longstreet, the Confederates 
assumed the aggressive. Rosecrans was not pre- 
pared for this. He had been pursuing the enemy 
for weeks. Why should they now face about and 
offer battle ? He fell back to collect his forces. 

The Rebels followed close at his heels. Rosecrans 
became alarmed at the apparent eagerness of the 
Confederates to give battle, yet it would not do 
to retreat further than to get a good position and 
collect his forces for a decisive engagement. Fur- 
ther retreat would excite a feeling of alarm, and 
might cause the government to distrust his general- 
ship. He resolved to give battle to the Confederates 
at once. Nearly the whole night preceding the bat- 
tle was spent in felling timber and throwing up earth- 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE 


347 


works. The Rebels slept soundly. Next morning, 
nearly three miles of earth-works, two or three feet 
in height, greeted their sight. 

Longstreet could not remain long inactive. He 
had come to assist Bragg in crushing Rosecrans, and 
meant to do the work between the dawn and twi- 
light of this memorable day. The battle opened at 
daylight by a furious cannonade from the Confeder- 
ate batteries. Longstreet felt the enemy’s lines by 
desultory fighting, and obtaining all the information 
he could, prepared fora general and decisive charge 
all along the line. He would not allow the enemy to 
concentrate at any point. He meant to carry the 
earth-works at the point of the bayonet, and the sol- 
diers were impressed with the magnitude of this 
undertaking. No regiment, once over the works, 
would be abandoned by the others. To break the 
Federal line at any point meant victory. 

“ Fix bayonets ! ” was the next order given. The 
private soldier understood that order to mean a 
death-grapple for victory. The bayonet, like the 
sabre, is a terrible weapon ; one that is seldom cross- 
ed in battle. If an officer can lead his men to a 
bayonet charge, he will, in all human probability, 
lead them to certain victory. Longstreet had tried 
his men before. They had used cold steel success- 
fully at Bull Run and Mechanicsville. If he could 
hurl his corps across the Federal earth-works, victory 
was assured. The cavalry was held in reserve, to 
harrass the enemy on the retreat. 

Amid a terrific fire of artillery and musketry from 
the Federal earth-works, the smoke of which ob- 
scured their line from view, the Rebels advanced 


348 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


briskly to the charge, the breech of their muskets 
resting against the hip and their eyes fixed intently 
upon the blazing, roaring, seething line of the enemy. 
It was a desperate charge, and nothing but the 
audacious bravery of Longstreet’s corps could have 
stood for a moment the terrific fire which grew 
fiercer, louder and more deadly the nearer they ap- 
proached the earth-works of the foe. Rosecrans and 
his staff occupied an eminence overlooking the field. 
He gazed with wonder at the steady advance of the 
Rebel line. 

“ They have not yet fired a gun,” said he to one of 
his staff, who was also peering through a field glass 
at the audacious charge of the enemy. 

My God ! ” continued he, “ listen ! ” 

It was the fearful yell of Longstreet’s men in the 
final, dreadful death-grapple, and of all things earthly, 
it was most bewildering, most enervating to the foe. 

Twenty-five thousand voices, all raised to the very 
highest key of human expression, now mingled and 
blended into one unearthly sound. The roar of 
musketry, the boom of cannon, were almost hushed 
into silence by the sound. It was caught up by the 
winds and wafted along the steep, cavernous hill- 
sides and down into the dark, narrow, gloomy val- 
leys, and the echoes swept back again blending with 
fresher and more terrific sounds. Confederate 
musketry now blended with the Rebel yell. The 
smoke from both lines met, mingled and rolled heav- 
enward in one black, dense, impenetrable cloud of 
gloom. Gen. Rosecrans looked in vain. He only 
beheld a mass of black clouds. 

Nothing could be heard but the deafening yell of 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


349 


the enemy. He tried to speak to the officers at his 
side, but could not be heard. The struggle was 
brief, terrific, decisive. It was like nothing but itself. 
It stands without a parallel in the history of our great 
civil war. The Rebels yelled and fired — yelled and 
charged bayonets. The Federal line was broken, 
borne down before the impetuosity of the charge, 
and in less than five minutes the Confederates were 
masters of the field. 

The retreat of the Federal army was sudden and 
the confusion, at first, very great, but in this supreme 
moment of perilous disaster the genius and greatness 
of one man burst forth in brightness and splen- 
dor, thrilling the hearts of the Union host, now al- 
most crushed, and adding new spirit and zeal to the 
cause in every section of the country. 

Gen. Thomas was the hero of Chickamauga. 

He is dead now — but when glorious old Virginia 
gathers her jewels in the years to come — when all 
bitterness of a sectional nature shall have been for- 
gotten — Gen. Thomas, the hero, the savior of the 
Union army at Chickamauga, will rank beside her 
Lees, her Jacksons, her Johnsons, and her Picketts. 

It was the purpose of the Confederates to press the 
retreating enemy to the utmost. Thomas had but 
one aim, but one idea, and that was to get his shat- 
tered and demoralized army safely out of the enemy’s 
country. His cavalry protected the rear of the re- 
treating army. 

Gen. Wheeler was anxious to demoralize the re- 
treat as much as possible, and to this end detatched 
Col. Walton’s regiment with a battery of light guns 
along an obscure road, with orders to strike the Fed' 


350 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE, 


eral column on the left flank. At the signal of Col. 
Walton’s attack he would make a furious assault in 
front, hoping thereby to drive the Federal cavalry in 
confusion upon the retreating infantry, thus produc- 
ing one of those terrible night panics so much dread- 
ed in disciplined warfare. It was good generalship 
to attempt this surprise, better far to prevent it. The 
genius of Gen. Thomas was equal to the emergency. 
He had dispatched a regiment of cavalry to guard 
this blind, obscure road, of which he was supposed 
to be entirely ignorant. 

Walton had not gone but a few miles ere he en- 
countered this regiment. The Federal cavalry had 
dismounted and were drawn up in line of battle. 
Walton assaulted the enemy with great fury. For a 
long time the Federals stood their ground, and might 
have gained the battle had not their brave command- 
er fallen mortally wounded in the midst of the fierce 
conflict. He had already ordered his men to mount 
their horses, and was preparing for a final desperate 
charge all along the line, when he was seen to fall 
apparently lifeless from his horse. As the Federals 
did not advance,* Walton resolved to make one more 
furious assault. He saw the confusion of the enemy 
and was not slow to take advantage of it. The 
charge resulted in complete victory, for just at this 
moment a heavy column of Wheeler’s cavalry came 
charging down the main road, striking the enemy in 
flank and rear. The Federal cavalry retreated in 
great confusion, leaving their dead and wounded up- 
on the field of battle. 

Orders were now received from General Bragg to 
bivouac for the night, and Walton’s regiment camped 


THE BA TTLE OF LIFE, 


35 


on the field of battle, nearly a half day’s march from 
the scene of the first conflict early in the day. Col. 
Walton, however, did not retire like the private sol- 
diers of his command, who were free of those dis- 
turbing cares that so nearly harass the life out of the 
conscientious officer. He visited the wounded and 
helped to minister to their wants. While he was 
assisting the surgeon to dress the wounds of one of 
his men, a trooper came up to the hospital tent, and, 
making his salute to Walton, said : 

‘‘ Colonel, the Federals left no one to care for their 
wounded. There are quite a number between here 
and the road, and among others, the colonel who 
commanded in this last engagement. He is mor- 
tally wounded.” 

Col. Walton directed that the Federal wounded 
should be cared for as soon as his own soldiers re- 
ceived attention, and went himself to look after the 
wounded officer. ^ 

The Federal colonel was a magnificent specimen 
of well-matured manhood ; tall, athletic, handsome. 
His long black beard, flecked with gray, reached 
almost to his waist. His long dark hair fell in grace- 
ful curls upon his broad, well-shaped shoulders, 
meeting and mingling with his whiskers. His large, 
black eyes were full of tenderness, but his face 
showed many signs of sorrow, and to the intelligent-' 
observer there were many indications of a blighted, 
wretched life. His high, white, marble-hued brow 
showed indications of superior intelligence, and the 
fine Grecian mould of features showed him to be of 
good blood, and his voice and manner indicated 
superior breeding. 


352 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE, 


Walton sent the wounded man to his own tent 
and had him placed on the bed recently spread for | 
himself The wounded officer was not unmindful of 
this kindness, and expressed his gratitude in the most 
earnest manner. Your colonel is too good a man ' 
to be a Rebel,” said he to one of the Confederates 
who ministered at his bedside. 

“ You will please accept my sympathy and hospi- | 
tality,” said Col. Walton, entering the tent and tak- 
ing a seat by the wounded man. 

“ Thank you,” said the Federal officer, his voice 
sounding like an echo from the spirit land — like a 
voice from the depths of a new-made grave. 

“What is your name?” said Col. Walton, bend- 
ing quietly over the prostrate form of the dying man, I 
and gazing tenderly into those glaring orbs over 
which the film of death had already cast its blight- 
ing, withering touch. 

“ My name ? ” said the strajiger, reaching out his 1 
right hand, which Walton clasped and pressed be- ! 
tween his own. “You want to know my name? 
Alas ! I have no name ! ” 

After a brief silence, the Federal officer said ; 

“ Please place the light nearer the bed, Colonel, 
that I may see your face more distinctly.” Then he 
murmured to himself: “I like the lad’s face. It is 
a manly, honest face. He favors my own dear boy 
whom I shall never, never see again ! Strange ! I 
cannot think of any one else ! my mind is full of the 
thought whenever I look at this Rebel colonel. He 
is the very picture of my boy 1 

“ Will that do ?” said Walton, moving the light so 
that it shone directly in his own face. In slutting 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE, 


353 


the lamp, its rays fell full upon the face of the dying 
man. Walton started back with an expression of 
surprise. Where had he seen that face before ? 

‘'Yes, that will do, my friend; now take your seat 
as near to me as you can, and hold my hand in 
yours. I want to talk to you before I die ! 

“You did not tell me your name,” insisted Wal- 
ton. 

“ No, I did not. I will come to that directly.” 

“ I think I have seen you somewhere.” 

“ I don’t know. I have travelled a great deal. It 
is not impossible. Will you do me a favor? I know 
you will,” said the wounded man, looking Walton 
full in the face. “You have already sacrificed your 
much-needed, much-desired rest for my sake. Do 
you mean to watch by my side until I die ? ” 

“ Yes, if flesh and blood can stand the ordeal — if 
you die to-night, as you affirm and doubtless believe, 
I will be with you to the end.” 

“ God bless you, my dear young man ! You can 
never realize how grateful I am for this kindness ! ” 

The wounded man lay quite still for several min- 
utes, intently scanning the face of the Rebel colonel. 
At last he said : 

“ Have you writing materials in your tent?” 

“Yes.” 

“ Will you take down the dying words of a father ? 
words ol love and tenderness to his only child ? This 
message must be given to my son and to no one 
else. Will you promise to seek out my boy ? I 
have but the one — I have only this child in all the 
wide, wide world ! ” continued the wounded man, 
bitterly. “ The others have forsaken me. The 
22 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE, 


3S4 

mother that bore them has forsaken me. She is now 
the wife of another and the mother of children that 
do not bear my name.” 

*‘I promise,” said Col. Walton, in undisguised 
amazement, for the language of the stranger thrilled 
him with a nameless dread. 

“ I must not waste my time thus to no purpose, 
said the dying man, after a brief pause. “ Please get 
your writing material ready and write as I dictate.’’ 

Col. Walton procured pen, ink and paper, and 
returning to the bed-side, said : 

** I am ready. Proceed.” 

“ Begin with ' My dear boy.’ ” 

“ Well.” 

“ When I left the dear old home in Ohio — ” 

Walton’s hand trembled — he could hardly hold 
the pen. 

I fled before an evil report that endangered my 
life and the honored name I bore. I cannot die in 
peace without telling you all. I was harsh, cruel to 
you in those evil days, for which I pray God to for- 
give me. I have beaten you often, but I always 
loved you as I did my own soul. Piper’s whiskey — ” 

Col. Walton almost dropped the pen from his 
hand at the name of Denis Piper. God knows he 
had reason to remember that name. The wounded 
man noticed his excited manner, and said : 

“You are very nervous to-night; I am fearful 
that I am asking too much of you.” 

“No, no; I was astonished to hear the name of 
Denis Piper, that’s all.” 

The wounded man seemed not to fully compre- 
hend the remark, but added slowly and deliberately: 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE, 


355 

‘‘Piper was a very bad man; he was my evil 
angel.” 

“You spoke of your wife having married again,” 
said Walton, becoming more and more excited. 
“ Was she divorced ? ” 

“No.” 

“ Does she know that you are living ? ” 

“No, she thinks I am dead.” 

“ Where did you live before you left home ? ” said 
the colonel, laying the writing materials on the 
ground and drawing his camp-stool nearer the bed 
of the wounded man. 

“At Mt. Astar.” 

What is your name ? ” gasped Walton^ trembling 
from head to foot. 

“Robinson.” % 

'‘No?” 

“ That is the name I have assumed — not my real 
name. The full particulaiis of my strange, sad life I 
shall never reveal to any one but my son. For his 
benefit I have written in full a sketch of my life from 
boyhood up to the commencement of the war. It is 
sealed and addressed to my son. You will find the 
package in my coat pocket. I wish you to give this 
package to him along with the letter I am dictating. 
It is strictly a private matter. Will you allow no 
eyes but his to see the contents ? ” 

“ I will regard your wishes and obey your com- 
mands faithfully,” said Walton, in a faltering tone of 
voice. 

After a moments silence, Walton bent over che 
dying man and said : “ Please tell me your real 

name ; it can do no harm to any one ! ” 

“Walton — Amos Walton.” 


356 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


** My dear father ! ” sobbed the son, throwing his 
arms about the neck of the wounded man, and 
weeping like a little child. 

The dying man clasped the hand of his son and 
■murmured : “ Sidney ! My dear, dear boy ! ” 

Col. Walton calmed himself in a moment. He 
rose from his knees, and once more clasped his 
father’s hands in his own. 

The wounded man did not return the pressure. 

He was dead ! 


The loving nature of Delia Logan had made a 
lasting impression upon those with whom she had 
lately livecj. During the short tour of the East she 
had been of inestimable value to Maj. Andrews and 
his excellent family. She spoke French and Italian 
fluently, while they spoke only English. It was 
their intention to spend several years on the conti- 
nent, but rumors of war reached them soon after their 
arrival at Rome, where Maj. Andrews received an 
urgent letter from the Governor of his State, saying 
that his services were much needed at home. Being 
devoted to the fortunes of the South, he lost no time 
in returning to Tennessee. Leaving his family and 
Delia on the plantation, the Major hurried up to 
Richmond, where he offered his services to the Con- 
federate government and was assigned to duty at 
once. He had hardly left home when Delia obtain- 
ed tidings of her father’s death and of her mother’s 
serious illness. Thinking only of her duty to the 
dead and the living, she had hurried to Memphis to 
minister to the wants of her invalid mother, and did 
not leave that city until Mrs. Logan was dead and 


THE TATTLE OF LIFE. 


357 


buried. Almost heart-broken with grief, she had re- 
turned to the Andrews plantation, thinking only of 
the friendly greeting, only of the earnest welcome 
that awaited her the moment she crossed the thresh- 
old of this pleasant, happy, luxurious Southern 
home. 

Alas for all such hopes ! Death, like the atmos- 
phere we breathe, pervades the universe. It comes 
to the king on the throne ; it visits the anchorite in 
the dark, narrow cell of the cloister ; the rich and 
the poor, the small and the great, the happy and the 
wretched, the old and the young — all meet upon a 
common level when they cross the threshold of mor- 
tality and enter, prideless and emotionless, the 
Court of Death.” Show me a man or woman, or a 
child, even, that has reached the age of discretion 
without feeling the cruel sting of death ! In the 
midst of life is death ! We die a thousand times be- 
fore the sods of the valley beat the last funeral dirge 
upon our coffin-lid, sounding a mournful tattoo over 
the cold, inanimate form of the dead, asleep to wake 
no more until the judgment morn. Who, of all the 
living, has felt the sting of this insatiate monster 
more than Delia Logan ? Her gentle, loving heart, 
bruised and bleeding from death’s cruel blows, had 
hardly recovered from the wounds that left her an 
orphan, when another fell with crushing effect, de- 
priving her at one fell swoop of her best and dearest 
friend, and sent her forth into a strange, cruel, friend- 
less world, heart-broken and alone ! Mrs. Andrews 
was dead ! 

Maj. Andrews was far away upon the field of bat- 
tle, The children, the oldest, a bright, handsome 


353 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE, 


boy of eight years, and two lovely little girls, the 
youngest but four, clung frantically to Delia’s skirts, 
as though she was now the only being in all the 
world left for them to love. Whenever she spoke of 
going away they wept as if their hearts would break. 
It was plainly her duty to remain until the father re- 
turned, and she. did so. She did not know that Maj. 
Andrews, like the children so dear to his kind, gen- 
erous heart, would have fallen upon his knees and 
implored her to remain — not for a few days or 
months, but for life — had he dared to make the re- 
quest. She only knew that his eyes filled with tears; 
that he tried to speak but could not, so great was 
his emotion. 


CHAPTER XLIX. 


A PLEASANT SURPRISE. 


“ But happy they, the happiest of their kind ! 

Whom gentle stars unite, and in one fate 

Their hearts, their fortunes and their beings blend.” 



EVERAL days before the battle of Chicka- 
mauga, Walton received the following letter, 
post-marked New Orleans : 


Col. Sidney H. Walton, Wheeler's Cavalry, Confederate Army. 

Dear Cousin : I doubt not this letter will prove a great surprise to 
you. That truth is sometimes stranger than fiction, was never more 
thoroughly exemplified than in this instance — than in my own life. 
That you should have tried to kill me the last time we were face to face, 
is not half so strange as the story I am about to relate. I am now one 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


359 


of the happiest men in the universe, and for this happiness I am mainly 
indebted to your cousin. I know you are reading this with great sur- 
prise. You are astonished that I should write to you at all; more than 
astonished that I should call you cousin. Well, I am a married man. 
My wife is the prettiest, sweetest little woman in the. universe. How 
did this happen ? You could never guess. Have patience and I will 
tell you as fast as I can. Having a naval education, I was assigned 
as an officer of the so-called Confederate navy. I was given command 
of a miserable old tub called a gunboat. This vessel was part of the 
defense of New Orleans, a city already doomed as I well knew, but 
like a true patriot, I went forward in the discharge of my official duty 
as cheerfully as though confident of success. At last the Federal fleet 
came knocking at our door. There was a battle. My old tub was 
sent to the bottom of the river in less time than it takes to describe the 
catastrophe. I was severely wounded in the engagement. After the 
battle was over the wounded were taken to the hospital. The Tem- 
ples soon found me out, and having known me before the war, insisted 
that I should be taken to their house. iLis the old, old story. Nursed 
back to life by a sweet, charming girl, what should I do but fall in 
love, and having loved, what could be more natural than — well, we 
were married. It was a case of true love without any of those vexa- 
tious incidents that usually follow. But the strangest part of the story 
yet remains to be told. Minnie is not the daughter of Mr. and Mrs. 
Temple, as all the world believed. She was adopted and raised in 
that belief, but Capt. Temple was made to promise that he would re- 
veal the whole truth, to Minnie before she became a wife. He had 
found her at the orphan asylum. The woman in charge of the institu- 
tion had promised the child’s mother not to allow Minnie to be raised 
by other than genteel people. The dying mother declared that she was 
a lady and the child’s father a gentleman, and she wanted her child to 
be raised and educated as a lady should be. Having agreed to be a 
father to the child, and that he would reveal her history before her 
marriage, Capt. Temple fulfilled this pledge the day before she became 
my wife, presenting Minnie with portraits of her father and mother, 
Minnie wept bitterly at first, but finding that it did not in the least 
affect my love for her, became in a measure reconciled to the painful 
thought that the Temples were not her parents. I see nothing to be 
sorry about. Her real parents, judging from the pictures we have, 
were first-class people, and, besides, Minnie is, and ever will be, the 
child of her adopted parents. I am living at the Temple mansion. 
Capt. Temple will not consent to a separate establishment. I have 
not yet told you one item of news which I should have mentioned first 
of all My thoughts love to linger about the object dearest to my 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


360 

heart. I can hardly think, write or speak of any one else but your 
beautiful cousin — my wife. While lingering between life and death at 
the Temple mansion, a Memphis paper, containing an account of the 
cowardly assault in which you came so near losing your life, was placed 
in my hands. The paper spoke of the difficulty we had at the hotel, 
and asserted upon the authority of the stupid police, that I had sud- 
denly left the city about the same time and at a late hour of the night. 
This was taken as proof positive that I had instigated the assault. 
They did not accuse me of picking your pockets, for which I am truly 
thankful. If the stupid creatures had taken the least pains to learn 
the truth, I would not have been slandered, and you would not have 
been provoked into calling me names — in short, the trouble on the 
steamboat might have been averted. 

Had the police taken the trouble to inquire at the telegraph office, 
they would have learned the whole truth relative to my sudden de- 
parture from Memphis. I received that very night a message from 
my father saying that he was dangerously ill and wished me to re- 
turn at once. As a dutiful and loving son, I took the first steamer for 
Duvall Glen. I have nearly finished, my dear Walton, without telling 
you the name of your cousin — the one who now bears my own name. 
My wife’s maiden name was, or should have been, Hensley. She is 
the only daughter of Arthur Hensley, who died when she was but 
three weeks old. Minnie’s mother did not survive her husband’s 
death but a few weeks. As they were quite poor, and without friends 
in the city, Minnie was given to the mother superior of the asylum for 
orphan and friendless children. The child had not been in the asylum 
but a few days, however, when the Temples called to see the children, 
saying they had none of their own, and meant to adopt a child if they 
could find one that suited their fancy. They were much pleased with 
Minnie, and at once took the little orphan to their home and their 
hearts. She has known nothing but happiness all her days, and, God 
willing, this happiness shall never grow less. 

Your Affectionate Cousin, 

Allan Early. 

Col. Walton read the strange document which he 
received from the hands of his dying father with much 
interest. The reader is already familiar with the 
contents of this paper, except that portion of it which 
relates to the life of Philip Logan, written in explan- 
ation of the ceaseless hatred of that individual for 
the elder Walton, but without the knowledge that 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


361 

this emnity had been visited upon the son. It is all 
new to the hero of our story. It has proved a reve- 
lation to him indeed. Every mystery, every shadow 
is now removed. Even the strange, vindictive hatred 
of Logan and his wife is no longer a mystery. The 
elder Walton’s statement read as follows : 

While master of the Crescent City, I met Philip Logan at the St. 
Charles Hotel, in New Orleans. He was about my own age, and im- 
pressed me most favorably. We soon became excellent friends. Lo- 
gan told me all his secrets. He even informed me of his approaching 
marriage, and finally introduced me to Miss Davost, the woman who 
was soon to become his wife. As the family treated me with much 
kindness, I became a constant visitor and soon made the acquaintance 
of old Davost’s youngest daughter, just returned from boarding school. 
She was beautiful, and highly accomplished. I was quite young then, 
scarcely out of my teens, and very susceptible to the charms of the op- 
posite sex. I loved Miss Davost. I honestly believed that my love 
was sincere; that I could love Rosa Davost under any and all circum- 
stances, and my passion was earnestly reciprocated. Logan did all he 
could to encourage the match, and when I proposed, my offer of mar- 
riage was accepted. In the meantime, Logan and the elder sister 
were married, and the day of my own marriage to the-younger daugh- 
ter was finally agreed upon. One day, while visiting my intended 
bride, I took up a Catholic book which I found lying open at “The 
Marriage Sacrament.” It was evidently placed there for my special 
benefit. I knew that Rosa was a devout Catholic — she knew that I 
was a Protestant — and that was all we knew of each other, religiously 
speaking. I read with a feeling of horror, that I was expected to bar- 
ter, in exchange for a wife, all right of control over the religious train- 
ing of our children, should we be blessed with offspring. Now, the 
love of children was, to me, the one great incentive to marriage. Young 
as I was, and unsettled both in mind and body, I yet had very positive 
views on this subject, and the desire of paternity was, even then, the 
ruling passion of my nature. I was not a church member, not even a 
Christian, but I was almost an enthusiast on the subject, nevertheless. 
I was a Protestant, a Calvinist, in the strongest acceptation of the term. 
I desired above all things to correct the miserable blunders of my own 
life in those I dearly loved — in the lives of my children. I at once 
sought an interview with Rosa and asked her if she intended to exact 
such a pledge' as the one I had just read, explaining to her my feelings 
on the subject. She turned pale as death at the mere mention of my 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


362 

objection to the Catholic marriage service, and said: ‘‘You should 
have found fault with my religion ere you asked my hand in marriage! 
You knew I was a Catholic ! ” I tried to reason with her, but in vain. 
She would marry me as a Catholic, with all the rights and privileges of 
a Catholic wife and mother, or not at all. She begged, implored me 
to yield — I implored her to do the same. Neither would yield an inch. 
At last I arose and bade her farewell. “Forever?” she asked, falt- 
eringly. forever!” 

And so we parted, never to meet again. When I next heard of 
Rosa Davost I was told that she had immured herself in one of those 
living tombs called a convent. As she was the favorite of the family, 
it was quite natural that they should despise me ever after ; and look- 
ing back over the wretched past, I cannot blame them for the bitter 
hatred they felt for me. Ever after this, Logan abused me on all 
occasions. At last, becoming weary of his insulting remarks, I chal- 
lenged him to mortal combat. He accepted the challenge without a 
moment’s hesitation. We met in a canebrake a few miles west of 
Vicksburg. I was a stranger in that city, and when a spruce little 
man, of positive French accent, called on me the day before the duel 
and offered his services as a surgeon, I thanked him very kindly and 
sent my servant to show the little doctor to the place selected for the 
deadly conflict. When the word fire was repeated for the second 
time, and we had leveled our pistols in the air, taking deadly aim at 
each other, the little doctor threw off his mask and fell sobbing into 
the arms of Philip Logan. It was his wife. There was no duel, but 
we parted with all the old bitterness still rankling in our hearts. That 
Was the last time I ever met Philip Logan. 


The excitement incident to actual warfare is suffi- 
cient for the courage and endurance of the bravest 
who are called to meet the foeman upon the battle 
field, or else to toil foot-sore and weary from place to 
place, often exposed to heat and cold, rain and frost, 
and oftener, perhaps, to the pangs of hunger and 
thirst. Surely this is enough for the soldier — all 
that flesh and blood can bear. From the common 
soldier no more is expected, but from the officer a 
great deal more. To the hardships and dangers of 
the battle field and the march niust be added the 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


363 

care and anxiety which responsibility always brings 
to those occupying elevated positions in life, and 
nowhere does this responsibility rest with greater 
weight than in the army, and in no arm of the ser- 
vice is it more keenly felt than in the cavalry. 

Col. Walton has realized a weight of care, incident 
to his official position, sufficient to crush the life out 
of one not inured to hardships and disappointments, 
as he had been all the days of his life. He had lead 
the advance and covered the retreat in many of the 
fiercest battles of the war. There is now but two 
hundred of the original regiment left alive. The 
regiment had been reorganized for the third time, 
and now, in the closing days of the war, he found his 
cavalry more in demand than ever before. His com- 
mand was under marching orders for Nashville, under 
Gen. Hood, in that memorable and disastrous raid 
in the rear of Sherman’s army. 

In addition to the harrowing scenes of active war- 
fare, Col. Walton has had many severe trials of a 
personal nature — enough, almost, to drive him mad 
with anxiety. Disappointed in his ardent affection 
for Eva Duvall, he had no sooner met Delia Logan 
and renewed the old bonds of love, so long broken, 
than the fatal battle of Duvall Glen resulted in the 
terrible encounter between himself and Delia’s 
father, in which he had received a severe wound 
from the man he would have given the world to 
conciliate. Whatever happened in the future, he 
could never tell Delia the truth relative to this painful 
episode in his own life. Following upon the heels of 
this event came the death of his father and the 
strange, sad revelation of that blighted, wretched 


364 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


life — enough to excite a feeling of sorrow and gloom 
even in the breast of a stranger, infinitely more so 
in the heart of one who loved the poor, unfortunate 
outcast with all the fervor of an ardent, generous 
nature. Never did events, private and public, crowd 
faster upon the tortured mind and aching heart of a 
single individual. He could hardly enumerate, 
much less remember them, so multitudinous were 
they and wide-reaching in their nature. To the 
above must be added still another painful circum- 
stance which added not a little to the sum-total of 
his misery : he was estranged from all his kindred, 
except his Uncle Hensley. All his relatives were 
devoted to the Union. To think of the loved ones 
at home was the most painful thought of all. When 
they learned the truth they would disown and despise 
him. Apart from this was the painful thought that 
his mother was for nearly twelve years the wife of 
two living men. 

In the midst of those bitter reflections he received 
news that a deserter under sentence of death wished 
to see him. On reaching the military prison, a sen- 
tinel led the way into one corner of the building, 
saying: 

“ There’s the fellow who wishes to see you. Colo- 
nel — hard-looking customer, is he not ? ” 

Walton did not reply ; he merely beckoned to the 
soldier to retire. He now stood face to face with 
Humphrey. 

“ I am to be shot to-morrow,” said the prisoner, 
in a dogged, sullen tone, “ and as I did you a great 
injury once, I have sent for you to ask your pardon. 
I have written my confession in full. Here it is,” 


THE BATTLE OF L/EE, 


365 


continued he, handing Walton a sealed paper, 
“You will be surprised, perhaps, to learn that I as- 
saulted you at Memphis and robbed you of four 
hundred dollars. I was actuated partly by a desire 
for revenge, but the leading motive was a desire to 
earn money. I was miserably poor. Delmont knew 
this, and when he heard of our difficulty, the villain 
sent for me. He said that he had much cause to 
hate you, and would give a large sum of money to 
have you out of the way. You had made love to his 
girl, it seemed. Well, he finally asked me to name 
the least sum that would induce me to undertake the 
job. I said one thousand dollars, never dreaming 
that he was so terribly in earnest. No sooner said, 
however, than he handed me five one hundred dollar 
bills, and said : ‘ When the job is finished come to 

me and I will pay you five hundred more.’ This led 
me to make the assault which came so near proving 
fatal. I thought you were dead until I read of your 
recovery in the papers. I am guilty of all the 
charges brought against me in the trial which result- 
ed in my conviction. I neither ask nor'expect the 
least mercy from my superiors. You can make any 
use you please of my confession. The paper con- 
tains substantially what I have just related.’’ 

Walton did use the confession, and with a ven- 
geance. A few weeks later it appeared in full in 
the New Orleans Times, and with it the following 
open letter from Col. Walton: 

To Otho Delmont, New Orleatts. 

Sir ; — I do not desire your blood nor your money. There is a bet- 
ter and far nobler revenge in store for me; and do not flatter yourself 
with the hope that I will relent or fail to use the lash your own evil, 
cowardly, infamous conduct has placed in my hands. No, sir ; never. 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


366 

Henceforth, as long as you pollute this fair world with your evil pres- 
ence, understand me, Otho Delmont, I am the Nemesis of your life. 
I shall follow you with the story of this infamous plot to murder a 
man who never wronged you by word or deed. No, sir, I do not want 
your life. I prefer that you should live until, Judas-like, you are com- 
pelled by the lashings of a guilty conscience and the frowns of honest 
men to take that life, which, by your own villainy, has become so 
mean and contemptible as not to excite a feeling of personal revenge 
in the bosom of the man you sought to murder. I do not want your 
money, for it is contaminated with the slimy touch of a murderous 
hand. I only wish to stamp upon your brazen brow the mark of Cain, 
and send you forth into the world a warning to your race ; a thing 
that men will look upon and say; “Thank God, I am not like this 
man ! ” If you have not the courage and decency to relieve the world 
of your presence, rest assured I shall lash you while living without 
mercy and without restraint. Go where you will, I shall follow you 
like your own conscience, lighting the fires of hell about you ere the 
fullness of time ; ere the fruition of your own evil deeds are ripe for 
eternity. If you have the manhood to despair, it is best ; but if a 
cowardly hope still lingers in your black heart, it will only serve to 
light the fires of perdition about you ere the smoke of your torment 
becomes perpetual. Your hatred of me was without cause; you know 
this as well as you know that you are a villain and an outcast among 
men. You banked upon a misfortune of my life over which I had no 
control, and for which I was innocent in the sight of God and man. 
Why did you persecute me thus ? Because an intelligent, pure, noble 
young lady dared to follow the dictates of her own generous heart ; 
dared to respect me, poor and humble as I was, and had the courage 
to hate and loathe you as she did a serpent. After weaving your 
subtle web of slander about a friendless boy, who stood alone, 
the target of a whole city of gossiping tongues, you drove the lady 
from the shelter of her own home by your infamous persecutions. She 
had to flee from you as from an uncaged beast. Why were you al- 
lowed to persecute this lady ? Because you were rich and she was 
poor. You loaned her father, a proud, ambitious man, money and 
claimed the daughter as though she had been a slave bought with 
your money. You know I speak the truth. In conclusion, sir, I 
would say to you that the boy you slandered and abused, the man 
whose murder you strove to compass, still lives to scourge you 
through the world, that you may not go unwhipped of justice — and he 
will do it. ' Yours for the present, 

Sidney Walton. 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


367 


CHAPTER L. 


JOHN LOGAN PAYS THE DEBT. 

“ I am distressed for thee, my brother: very pleasant hast thou 
been unto me : thy love was wonderful, passing the love of woman.” 

/T\HE friendship existing between John Logan 
and Sidney Walton was as earnest and sin- 
cere as the love of man for man could well 
be. Logan had never before violated a pledge sin- 
cerely and honestly given. He was the very soul of 
honor. Nothing in the world, perhaps, but the 
charms of Eva Duvall could have tempted him to 
betray the confidence of any one, least of all the 
best and truest friend he had ever known, yet had 
Walton been doubly dear-to him, he could not have 
resisted the temptation, so great was his infatuation. 
When he returned to Duvall Glen, Eva did not en- 
quire about the package. She waited for her friend 
to speak of the matter, but he remained strangely 
silent. Eva, as yet, did not doubt his integrity. 
She firmly believed that Logan had delivered the 
message; that Walton had spoke bitterly in refer- 
ence to the unhappy incidents connected with their 
own lives, and, dreading to give her pain, Logan 
preferred to remain silent. Thinking thus, she did 
not enquire ; knowing his own guilt, Logan had 
much better cause for silence. 

Eva honored and admired Paul Donoho — Logan 
was known to her only by his stage name — and re- 
ceived his attentions in a spirit of kindness which 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE, 


368 ‘ 

flattered his vanity not a little. He knew that Eva 
admired him ; believed that this feeling of admira- 
tion would soon develop into the kindred sentiment 
of love. It had never occurred to Miss Duvall that 
Logan was striving to supplant her real lover, and 
the disagreeable truth did not come alone when the 
mask was at last thrown off, for with the story of his 
own passion came the conviction that he had be- 
trayed a sacred trust. The situation was very pain- 
ful to both. Eva tried to evade an open declaration 
of love, but in vain. She was at last startled with 
the question : ** Do you still love Sidney Walton ?” 

“ Why do you ask that question, Col. Donoho? 

** Dearest,” said he, in a low, sad, earnest tone of 
voice, spoken with artistic power and sweetness as 
though he was wooing a princess on the stage, I 
will tell you all ! My name is not Donoho — I am an 
actor — Donoho is only my stage name. My real 
name is Logan — John Logan. I am the brother of 
your old friend, Delia Logan, and the bosom friend, 
sworn brother, of Sidney Walton ! I love you, Eva, 
better than I love my own life ! I have loved you 
from the day we first met ! ” 

Eva quickly rose from her seat, saying : ‘‘ Come 

with me ! ” 

They passed through a long hallway which brought 
them to the veranda on the opposite side of the 
mansion. Pointing with her finger she said : 

“ Do you see those new-made graves ? Do you 
know their history ? ” 

“ I think I do.” 

‘‘ Do you know that your father was an enemy to 
his country?” 


N 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 369 

“ Alas, yes ! It is the bane of my life.” 

” You know that he was killed in battle?” 

” Yes.” 

“ Your father lies buried in one of those new-made 
graves.” 

“ My God ! is that true ! ” 

”Yes. Do you know who commanded on the 
other side ? ” 

“ Yes, it was Col. Sidney Walton — he told me so 
himself.” 

” Col. Logan came here to burn Duvall mansion, 
and had he been successful in battle we would have 
been homeless and penniless to-day. But the worst 
yeUremains to be told. Col. Walton probably told 
you of his narrow escape in that terrible engage- 
ment ? ” 

“Yes, he spoke of having been wounded in this 
battle, but seemed very reluctant to speak of it.” 

“ That was very noble in Col. Walton, but had he 
told you all it would have relieved me of a most 
painful duty. Your father inflicted that terrible 
wound.” 

“ My God ! are you sure of this ? It was in bat- 
tle, of course ? ” 

“ No, it was not in battle.” 

“ Oh heaven ! it was not maliciously done ? it was 
not done with the desire to commit — ” 

“ Murder ! Your father had been fatally wounded 
in battle. Col. Walton, when the engagement was 
over, went to his assistance, and while examining the 
wound. Col. Logan pulled a pistol from his belt and 
shot him in the breast.” 

“ I do not deserve a better fate ! ” said Logan, fall- 
23 


370 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


ing upon his knees at the feet of Miss Duvall, “ but 
forgive me, Eva ! it was for your sake I did this ? I 
was foolish enough to think you loved me 1 You 
cannot even respect me now ! ’’ 

“ I do not understand you,” said Eva, pretending 
not to comprehend his meaning. 

“ I have betrayed you ! betrayed the noble man 
you love ! the truest, best friend I ever had. I will 
make any restitution in my power ! I can do no 
more ! ” 

“To show you that I am not offended, and that I 
have not lost confidence in your integrity, I renew 
my request. I will write again to Col. Walton and 
trust you to deliver the letter.” 

Logan promised, vowed that he would deliver the 
message if he should perish in the attempt. Eva 
had her revenge, if she really desired to punish the 
faithless courier, for this humiliating task was suffi- 
cient penance even for a much greater crime. 

Having for once no urgent or important messages 
to deliver at Richmond, Logan placed his mail in 
the hands of the common carrier whom he found 
waiting at Duvall Glen. This gave him the oppor- 
tunity, so earnestly desired, of visiting Walton’s di- 
vision, now covering the retreat of Hood’s army 
from Nashville. He wished to see Col. Walton face 
to face for the purpose of delivering Eva’s letter. 
He had another reason, another purpose, not so well 
defined, perhaps, but scarcely less urgent : duty im- 
pelled him to confess his fault and ask his friend’s 
pardon. He was not sure that he possessed the 
moral courage to do this, but he felt that he could 
not regain his self-respect without telling him all ; 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


371 


without casting the burden of his wretched heart at 
the feet of the man whom he had so greatly wronged. 
He went far out of his way to meet Walton. It was 
a dreary, cheerless journey. Everywhere he heard 
rumors of defeat and disaster to the noble army 
which Hood had hurled against Nashville, but in 
vain. Logan could distinctly hear the boom of ar- 
tillery far away, and, ever and anon, the mingled 
clash of small arms. He was on the direct line of 
retreat. The roar of small arms drew nearer, and 
soon the advance of the demoralized, routed host 
came pouring along the highway. It was midnight 
and very dark. Logan had seen much service in the 
East; had participated in victory and defeat, but 
never in such a route as this. He was forcibly re- 
minded of this by a little song chanted by the weary 
soldiers as they trudged wearily through the rain and 
*mud : 

“ If ,you want victory. 

If you want victory, 

March with Gen. Lee ; 

If you want to catch hell. 

If you want to catch hell, 

March with Hood, 

Down to Tennessee.” 

Hood was more annoyed by this simple song than 
by all else the soldiers could say or do. Wherever 
he went along the line of march, he could hear this 
song. This very night he paused unseen to listen to 
the bitter words of a group of wet, hungry, half- 
frozen soldiers who stood shivering by the road-side, 
trying to warm themselves at the flame of a few pine- 
knots hastily gathered on the march. At last they 
fell to singing the old song. Hood listened in gloomy 


372 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


silence. When they had finished, he approached the 
group and said : 

‘‘ Fellow soldiers, I am wounded, hungry and cold ! 
I am suffering all the privations of which you com- 
plain, but no man, living or dead, ever heard me lay 
my misfortunes at the door of another. I may be to 
blame for all this trouble, but God knows I have done 
my best — I have done all that I could do to avert 
this terrible calamity ! One little hope remained to 
cheer me : I had thought my brave soldiers loved 
and honored me still, and the thought somewhat 
reconciled me to the wretchedness of this defeat. 
Until to-night I had lived upon the slender hope that 
I was not hated by those who have borne the burden 
of this campaign ! I am now undeceived ! It would 
have been kinder in you to have emptied your mus- 
kets into my breast than to have said and sung what 
I have heard to-night. You have deprived me of 
the last and only desire to live. Excuse me, fellow 
soldiers, I did not mean to eavesdrop — I came upon 
you accidentally — I ask your pardon ! Think of me 
as'you will, but do me the justice to believe that I 
suffer more from this indignity than I have words to 
express; more, perhaps, than you have hearts to 
feel. These slurs will follow me home ; my neigh- 
bors, yes, my children, God bless them ! will hear 
what I have heard to-night ! Oh God ! why was I 
not killed in one ofthose terrible battles!” and the 
brave man wept like a child. 

The soldiers, awe-stricken at first, now crowded 
about the General, eager to take him by the hand, 
some actually falling upon their knees to beg his 
pardon. 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE, 


373 


“ It was not twenty-four hours until every soldier in 
the army had heard of this painfully dramatic scene. 

' Not another song or slur, not another reflection up- 
' on the generalship, courage and devotion of the gal- 
f lant commander was again heard during the retreat. 

^ Walton and Logan rode side by side during the 
' remainder of this dreary night. After the first friend- 
ly greetings were over, both relapsed into gloomy 
silence. Walton was suffering from a severe sabre 
wound received the day before. In addition to the 
pain occasioned by this wound, he was weary, hungry, 
wet and cold. Logan did not mention his errand. 
He would wait for a better opportunity. At daylight 
Walton’s regiment was thrown still further to the 
rear — the post of greatest danger. It was not long 
until his command was flanked by a division of Fed- 
eral cavalry. The enemy dismounted and posted 
themselves in a naturally strong position, and at close 
range. Nearly the whole of Wheeler’s division was 
exposed to their fire, but Walton’s regiment was first 
assaulted with great fury, the design evidently being 
to cut him off from Wheeler’s command. Owing to 
the conspicuous bravery of Walton in this retreat, the 
enemy had learned not only to respect but fear him. 
Finding his command more than usually exposed 
this morning, they made a furious attempt to drive 
him from the main road, hoping thereby to get be- 
tween his regiment and Wheeler’s division. At 
Walton’s earnest request, Wheeler sent him one of 
his best batteries. The guns, loaded with grape and 
canister, came up the road at full gallop. Walton 
ordered his regiment to dismount and form in line 
with the guns. By this time a battalion of infantry 


374 


THE BATTLE OE LIFE. 


had reached the Federal line. They charged brave- 
ly up to the very muzzles of the Rebel guns, but were 
driven back with great slaughter. 

The gallant captain of the battery was shot and 
instantly killed. John Logan took command of the 
guns. Walton sent an urgent dispatch to General 
Wheeler for reinforcements, but the battle was now 
raging furiously all along the line and the General 
could not spare him a man. **Tell Colonel Walton,” 
said he, “to save the guns at all hazards.” 

The Federal cavalry were now forming with the 
infantry for another furious charge on the guns. Wal- 
ton rode down to the battery and ordered the gun- 
ners to double-load each piece with grape shot, and 
not to fire until his men had discharged their pieces 
and fallen to their faces on the ground, then the can- 
nons were to be discharged over their prostrate bod- 
ies into the advancing foe. His orders were obeyed 
to the letter and with terrible execution. The front 
ranks of the enemy were almost annihilated. When 
the smoke cleared up an unbroken line again con- 
fronted the Confederates, and another volley of mus- 
ketry was exchanged between the combatants, fol- 
lowed by another desperate charge on the guns. 

In the terrible death-grapple that followed John 
Logan was bayoneted while ramming home a charge 
of grape-shot in one of the cannons, the gunner hav- 
ing fallen dead at his post but a moment before. 
But for the timely arrival of a battalion of cavalry 
from the extreme right of the line the guns had cer- 
tainly fallen into the hands of the enemy. 

When the Federals were again repulsed, Walton 
hurried to the side of Logan. The friend and com- 
panion of his boyhood was dying ! 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE, 


375 


** John, my dear, dear fellow ! are you badly hurt?” 
said he, falling upon his knees and placing his hand 
under the dying man’s head. 

** Yes, Sidney, I am done for and no mistake; but 
we have no time to speak of that. I have some val- 
uable papers on my person. There is also a com- 
munication that concerns you. Please send the oth- 
ers to my sister. Do not neglect this, for your own 
happiness and hers, too, depend upon those papers. 
Will you take care of the papers ?” 

‘‘Yes, yes, God knows I will! ” 

“ I wanted to tell you a great secret, Sidney, but 
I dreaded your displeasure and staved off the evil 
hour until it is now too late. I have done you a 
great wrong. The letter will tell you all. I am very 
sorry for having betrayed your confidence. Imagine 
the greatest wrong I could have done you, and then 
answer, yea or nay : do you forgive me ?” 

“Yes, a thousand times yes!” 

“Then I can die in peace.” 

“John! my dear, noble fellow! don’t die until I 
have told you a secret of my own ; one that may 
please you, for, no matter what you may have done 
to my injury, I know you love me !” 

“Yes,” murmured the dyin^ man, clasping the 
trembling hand of his friend, “ I love you as I love 
my own soul!” , 

“Do you know that I love Delia ?’^ 

“No, I never heard of it, never thought of it, never 
dreamed of it! but I am glad, very glad you do. 
Does she love you?” 

“ Devotedly !” 

“And what is to come of this?” 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


376 

*‘We are to be married, God willing, as soon as 
this terrible war is over.” 

Why have you kept this a secret from me, Sid- 
ney ?” 

‘^Not for want of love; not from lack of confi- 
dence — oh, I cannot tell you why — it would take me 
a long, long time to explain — but I pledge you upon 
the faith and honor of a gentleman and a soldier, 
that no power on earth shall ever part Sidney Wal- 
ton and Delia Logan !” 

“I am not sure — I cannot tell — Oh, I should 
have been faithful to you ! I should have delivered 
that letter — then no broken hearts — could — have — 
cried — o-u-t a-g-a-i-n-s-t — ” a gasp, a convulsive 
shudder, and all was over with the gallant young 
soldier of fortune ! He had passed beyond the 
reach of praise or blame ! 


CHAPTER LI. 

THE CRUEL WAR IS OVER. 

** The sea of fortune doth not ever flow ; 

She draws her favors to the lowest ebb; 

Her tides have equal times to come and go ; 

Her loom doth weave the fine and coarsest web ; 

No joy so great but runneth to an end ; 

No hap so hard but may in time amend.” 

O THER thoughts, other duties filled the mind 
and demanded the close attention of Colonel 
Walton. He had not time to think of, much 
less examine, the papers of his dead friend. He 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE, 


377 


hastily disposed of them, also a fine gold watch, 
diamond ring and other jewels, placing them all 
together in his portmanteau until such time as he 
should have leisure to examine the papers and note 
their contents. 

For three more wretched, turbulent days and 
nights he hovered in the rear of Hood’s shattered 
and demoralized army, exposing his body to all 
manner of hardships and his life to the murderous 
missiles of the vigilant foe. He had, by his many 
daring, almost reckless, exploits on this retreat, en- 
deared himself to his superiors, and won the respect 
and admiration of the enemy, notwithstanding a 
number of sharpshooters, in Federal uniforms, had 
tried in vain to kill him on the retreat from Nash- 
ville. Thanks to that mysterious providence which 
seems always to guard and protect the brave, he 
' escaped the bullets of the foe, receiving only a flesh 
wound from a sabre thrust, aimed at his heart. He 
parried this blow, receiving the point of the sword 
in his right arm. 

At last there came a day of rest to the weary, 
over-taxed Confederates, and with this precious 
quiet, abundant food, sweet sleep and pleasant 
dreams. This perfect peace came not to all ; came 
only to the true soldier; he who had done his whole 
duty at all times and under every circumstance. It 
was a foretaste of that eternal rest which comes at 
last, when the “ Battle of Life ” is ended, and the 
heroes of the fierce, ceaseless, unrelen^-ing struggle 
enter into their everlasting reward. 

The defeat of the South was less a defeat to Sid- 
ney Walton, perhaps, than to many brave and gal- 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


378 

lant officers whose hopes of promotion and future 
greatness seemed to perish with the cause they loved 
so well. His character and patriotism had been tried 
in a furnace seven times heated, and had come forth 
as bright and pure as virgin gold. 

He carried from the field of fierce conflict a gold 
medal and an autograph letter, both presented by 
Gen. Hood, for gallantry on the retreat from Nash- 
ville. On one side of the medal was the following 
inscription : 

Presented to Col. Sidney H. Walton for gallant 
and meritorious service in the Confederate army I' 

On the obverse side of the medal was an etching 
representing the last deadly conflict. Col. Walton 
was observed standing, sword in hand, between 
two cannons, and underneath were the following 
words in Latin : 

‘‘ This battery was sent to my relief, intrusted to my 
care — it shall not be surrendered while there is life in 
my body 

He was also the recipient of a gold watch and an 
autograph letter from Gen. Wheeler. 


Eva Duvall saw the awkward predicament in which 
John Logan had foolishly placed himself. She was 
anxious to relieve him of the odium of his treachery, 
provided he wished to escape his friend’s displeas- 
ure. She had generously prepared a way by which 
he might escape the worst consequences of his faith- 
less conduct. She left him perfectly free to make 
the acknowledgement or not, as his sense of honor 
should dictate. 

The old letter to Walton — the one he had neglect- 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


379 


ed to deliver two years before — was placed in an en- 
velope, not addressed, and left unsealed. On the 
margin were written these words : 

The reason why this letter failed to reach its destination can be more 
properly explained by Col. Logan, to. whose hands it was entrusted 
two years ago. It is hardly proper for me to give the Colonel’s reason 
for withholding it. I leave all explanations and apologies to the gen- 
tleman’s honor, not doubting but he will discharge his whole duty, 
faithfully, notwithstanding the fact that such an explanation will doubt- 
less give him severest pain. Ev^l Duvall. 

In another envelope, also unsealed, was a plain, 
simple letter of explanation, addressed to Col. Wal- 
ton. The two letters were alike, save in the last 
there was no mention of the first. 

Logan understood the situation thoroughly,and was 
more than grateful to Eva for this unexpected and 
undeserved act of kindness. Just before he joined 
Walton on the fatal retreat from Nashville, he had 
decided not to deliver the first letter, but instead of 
destroying the fatal document he placed it, carefully 
sealed, with his own papers. When stricken down 
in battle he seems to have wholly forgotten this let- 
ter, and only spoke of the one addressed to Walton. 
He, in his last moments, had no longer a wish to 
conceal its existence or its contents, but the hand of 
death was resting heavily upon him, and he died 
murmuring his regrets for having failed to do his duty. 

Does the reader suppose that Walton was delight- 
ed when he read Eva Duvall’s letter? There was a 
time, yea, many times, during the last four eventful 
years, when such a letter would have filled his breast 
with joy, but not now. The earnest, sincere love of 
his heart had been given to another. This love had 
I been pledged both to the'living and the dead. He 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


380 

felt that nothing in this world could divert the cur- 
rent of his affection from the channel in which it now 
flowed without a ripple of doubt or distrust. Eva’s 
letter did not shake his resolution, but it made him 
very, very miserable. The letter contained not a 
word relative to Eogan’s treachery. He only knew 
from the<iying man’s own lips the secret of the great 
mistake which was now beyond all reach of human 
remedy. Eva said she had been trying to commun- 
icate with him for years, to tell how faithful and de- 
voted she had been ; how much, how terribly, she 
had suffered for his sake ; how the Earlys had inter- 
cepted her letters and perverted them into abuse and 
insult; how old Abner had, on his death-bed, told 
her the whole painful truth. The letter closed with 
the pleasing intelligence that Mrs. Duvall had relent- 
ed and would now welcome him as the accepted 
lover of her daughter, the heiress to the name, fame 
and fortune of all the Duvalls. 

Eva’s goodness in trying to spare the feelings of 
his unfortunate friend flashed across Walton’s mind, 
but only to increase his bitterness and disappoint- 
ment. He had been terribly wronged. He could 
bear his own misery, but worst of all he was compel- 
ed, forced to wrong others. 

“ My God !” said he, rising hastily to his feet and 
crushing the letter frantically in his trembling hand, 
“ Was ever man so damnably betrayed as I have 
been? Traitor! treachery ! Yes, hell is full — Oh, it 
is all wrong — all wrong ! Poor fellow ! He is dead 
now ! He was my friend; true to me when I had no 
other friend in all the world! Forgive me, John! 
Forgive me, my dear, dear friend 1 But why did you 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


381 


betray me f ” and he sat down upon his camp-stool 
and read the letter over and over again. Alas ! for 
all his hopes ! for all his bright visions of connubial 
felicity, once so nearly assured, but now impossible ! 

The path of duty is sometimes a thorny path. It 
often leads through a dreary desert of blighted 
hopes, far away from the verdant oasis of fortune, 
where the bright waters sparkle and the cool shade 
invites repose. God pity the pilgrim whose sense of 
duty impels him to turn aside from all that is de- 
lightful and cheering in this life, bearing the self- 
imposed cross through mountain, desert, and wilder- 
ness, trusting in God alone for recompense “ beyond 
this vale of tears ! ” 

The way of escape from the present dilemma 
would have been easy enough to a selfish man with 
an easy conscience. The poor governess would have 
been cast aside with as little remorse as an old gar- 
ment, but not so, be it said to his credit, with Col. 
Walton. His heart, his hand, his honor — all had 
been pledged to Delia Logan. As to Eva Duvall, 
God pity her and him ! He was innocent ; sinned 
against, not sinning. 


382 


THE BATTLE OE LIFE. 


CHAPTER LII. 


THE BLUE AND THE GRAY. 


“ And Time shall bring on faithful wing, 

From o’er the flood of tears, 

The pledge of peace, when grief may cease. 

And joy light after years.” 

T the close of the war the survivors of Wal- 
ton’s old regiment insisted that he should ac- 
company them to Harrodsburg, Kentucky. 
Halting between several opinions, he found himself, 
for the first time in his life, irresolute and vacillat- 
ing. He had not seen Delia Logan for nearly three 
years, and the desire to meet her once more was 
greater than the wish to return to Kentucky, but the 
urgent pleadings of his faithful soldiers proved irre- 
sistible. As for his relatives, he tried not to think 
of them any more. There seemed to be a great 
gulf fixed between the loved ones at home and the 
Confederate colonel. Henceforth he must look for 
friends,' and for that kindness without which he cared 
not to live, among the blasted hopes and ruined 
homes of the South. The people for whom he had 
suffered so much and so long, were devoted heart 
and soul to their leaders. He would cast his for- 
tunes among those for whom he had sacrificed home 
and kindred ; for whose sake he had risked every- 
thing ; for whose cause, right or wrong, he had given 
four years of his life. They were not unmindful of 
the sacrifice, nor forgetful of past service. He loved 
the South ; loved the unselfish, kind-hearted people 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE, 383 

of that section. He could live very happily among 
them, and he resolved to make the South his home. 

Being fully determined to sacrifice his love for Eva 
Duvall upon the altar of duty, he felt that the sooner 
the sacrifice was made the better for his happiness, 
but Delia, dear, loving, unselfish Delia, should never 
know that he married her more from a sense of duty 
than love. He was surprised, pained, to find that 
his affection for Eva Duvall was again the ruling pas- 
sion of his nature. Nothing but a will, exception- 
ally strong and resolute, could have sustained 
him in this fierce struggle between love and duty. 
He could not trust himself to answer Eva’s letter. 
She might put any construction she wished upon his 
conduct ; he would make no explanations, no de- 
fense. 

Before starting North he wrote Delia the following 
letter : 

Dearest Delia : I have important business to transact at Har- 
rodsburg, Kentucky, and will be gone several weeks. At the expira- 
tion of this visit you may expect me at Mobile, I have a pleasant 
surprise for you. The news is too good to be imparted by letter. I 
will only hint the truth and leave you in delightful suspense until I 
return, that you may be all the more happy^o see me. I shall, on my 
return to Mobile, make you Mrs. Sidney Walton, and the richest 
woman of the South. You are not only an heiress in your own 
name, but the man you will call husband is able to add to this fortune 
an estate of his own, not so large, it is true, but sufficient* in itself to 
have placed us above want. I send this good news by a special mes- 
senger, a trusty soldier who has served in my regiment for four years. 
Be of good cheer, my dearest Delia ; all will yet be well. Your kin- 
dred are all dead ; mine are all dead to me, but we will live for each 
other, and will yet be happy despite of all the world can do. I have 
published Delmont in the papers and hissed him out of society. He 
hired Humphrey to assassinate me. You know the result. Hum- 
phrey was shot for desertion, and I published his confession in the 
New Orleans Thnes. Early, who is now, by marriage, a kinsman 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


384 


of mine and a very good friend also, writes me that Delmont was 
compelled to leave the city in disgrace after the publication of Hum- 
phrey’s confession and a letter which I added to it. I have not time 
to write more. I have many things to tell you, but good-bye for the 
present. 

Your faithful lover, 

Sidney Walton. 


Dr. Preston, his wife and son, Sidney Preston, are 
now living at Louisville, Kentucky. The rest of the 
family having married and settled in life, the happy 
household is now reduced to but three in number, 
but otherwise the same. The Doctor had been called 
to Louisville two years before to take charge of the 
Federal hospital. When the war closed the hospital 
was still full of wounded and debilitated soldiers, 
hence he resolved to remain as long as his services 
were actually needed. He was known, honored and 
loved by both sides as a man who knew neither par- 
ty, creed nor color in the discharge of professional 
duty. 

One evening as. he was returning from the hospital 
he bought a copy of the Courier, He had overheard 
a man reading about a grand banquet at Harrods- 
burg, and he thought he caught the name of “ Col. 
Sidney Walton,” for whom he still felt all the kind 
solicitude of a father. He was very eager to hear 
from the long-absent boy. He had striven in vain 
against his wife’s prejudice. She was a Hensley, and 
the Hensleys, with one single exception, were bitter 
Unionists. Mrs. Preston had never mentioned Sid- 
ney’s name from the day she learned the sad truth 
of his having joined the Confederate army. When 
she read of her brother’s death at Mill Spring and 
Sidney’s succession to the command of the regiment, 


THE BA TTLE OF LIFE, 


385 


she wept bitterly and seemed almost heart-broken. 
A sad, positive and apparently unrelenting calm suc- 
ceeded this storm of passionate grief, and she was 
never again heard to mention her son’s name. 

The last time Dr. Preston had spoken of the ab- 
sent son was about the close of the war. Speaking 
of his own son, he had called his wife’s attention to 
the fact that Sidney Preston was growing more and 
more like his absent brother every day — which was 
indeed true — no two could have possibly been more 
alike at the age of twelve. The Doctor compared 
the picture of the elder brother with the face of the 
younger in proof of his assertion, and once more ap- 
pealed to his wife for her opinion. Mrs. Preston 
answered with a deep sigh : 

“ He favors him but — ” 

“You don’t like to admit the fact?” added the 
Doctor, looking first at his wife and then at his son. 

“No.” 

“ Mamma,” said Sidney, taking a seat on a low 
stool near her side, clasping her hand in his and 
looking up tenderly into her face, “ what would you 
say if brother Sidney should ente^ the room at this 
very minute? ” 

“ He will never return, my son. He is a Hensley. 
The Hensleys are proud, self-willed, unchangeable. 
I have taught my heart to expect nothing, hope for 
nothing. Your brother is as one dead to us. If not 
killed in battle, he is lost to those who loved him 
best — lost to me, my dear! lost, forever lost! Do 
not mention his name to me any more.” 

Dr. Preston found on examining his paper that 
Sidney Walton had actually returned to Kentucky; 

24 


386 THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 

that the banquet spoken of had been given in his 
honor. He did not speak of the good news to Mrs. 
Preston, but calling his son aside, he showed him the 
article and instructed the lad how to communicate 
the news to his mother. When they all met at the 
supper table, Dr. Preston said : 

“ My dear, Pres.” — their pet name for Sidney — 
‘‘has some important news to tell you.” 

“ I hope it is good news.” 

“ Yes.” 

“ Well, I am all attention.” 

“ Mamma,” said the boy, his voice trembling with 
emotion, “we have heard from brother Sidney.” 

“ There was a long pause, during which the color 
came and went in the face of Mrs, Preston, showing 
the fierce struggle between maternal affection and 
Hensley pride. At last she said in a low, earnest 
tone : 

“ Is he still alive ? ” 

“Yes,” said the boy, “and he is now at Harrods- 
burg, Kentucky.” 

A long pause now followed. Mrs. Preston seemed 
determined to ask no more questions. Dr. Preston 
nodded to his son to go on and relate all that was 
in the newspaper article, but Sidney could not re- 
member the incidents. Rising from the table, he 
said : 

“ It’s in the paper, mamma ; shall I read it to you ? ” 

“Yes, if your papa wishes to hear it.” 

“ Get the paper, son, and read it. We all want to 
hear the good news.” 

The boy returned with the paper, and standing 
by his mother’s chair, read aloud as follows : 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


387 


Harrodsburg, Kentucky, June 20th, 1865. 

There was a grand banquet at the City Hotel last night, given in 
honor of Col. Sidney H. Walton, late commander of Hensley’s 
Horse, Confederate army. The survivors of the old regiment were 
all there. It was a sad commentary on the horrors of war, for out of 
one thousand Kentuckians who volunteered under Col. Hensley in 
1861, less than two hundred lived to return. Col. Walton, who is an 
Ohioan, is the nephew of the late Col. Hensley, and the sole heir to 
his large fortune. The colonel is every inch a soldier. He is quite 
young to have seen so much service, but notwithstanding his extreme 
youth at the time, he was made commander of Hensley’s Horse after 
the colonel’s death at Mill Spring. He was twice severely wounded, 
but has completely recovered from his injuries. He bears honorable 
testimonials from Generals Johnson, Hood and Wheeler. He will 
cast his fortunes with the South in peace as well as war. 

The next day after the banquet at Harrodsburg, 
Col. Walton went to the bank to see about his own 
and Delia’s fortune. The president informed him 
that all the papers and money belonging to Col. 
Hensley’s estate had been removed to Louisville for 
safety. This necessitated a visit to the metropolis 
of Kentucky. While en roiite to the city Col. 
Walton bought a copy of the Journal. It was full of 
stirring episodes connected with the closing days of 
the war, but nothing interested him half so much as 
the following local. personal : 

Dr. Charles Preston, the able and accomplished surgeon of the 
Union Hospital in this city, has concluded to remain in Louisville for 
another year. We hope his useful life may be prolonged beyond the 
allotted period of three-score and ten years, for the good he has done 
the world merits a green and happy old age. 

What were Col. Walton’s feelings when he read 
this personal? It is hard to tell. His mind was full 
of the thought all the way to Louisville. His heart 
ached at the thought of not meeting his father 
and mother. He knew his mother had shed many 
bitter tears over his conduct, which she honestly 


388 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE, 


believed to be little less than criminal. It was 
hardly possible that she would relent at sight of him. 

All the way he mused over the matter, and by the 
time he reached the city, his mind was fully made 
up. He would not make himself known to his 
family. Reaching Louisville, it so happened that 
he was driven to the very hotel at which his father, 
mother and brother were living. He registered his 
name as “ S. Hamilton, Mobile.” 

Buying a cigar at the bar, he turned to the clerk 
and commenced a rambling conversation about mat- 
ters pertaining to the city, in the midst of which a 
bright, handsome boy, apparently about twelve 
years of age, elegantly dressed and very prepossess- 
ing in manners and person, entered from the street. 
Col. Walton’s eyes were riveted upon the lad the 
moment he entered the room. The boy gave him 
a long, searching look that indicated anything but 
indifference. The clerk looked from the boy to the 
stranger, then from the stranger to the boy again. 
Approaching the desk, the lad said in a voice strange- 
ly familiar to the ears of Col. Walton: 

‘‘ Any letters for us this evening ? ” 

** Yes,” said the clerk, “ there are two ; one for the 
doctor and one for Master Sidney Preston. That’s 
you, I believe ? ” 

“Yes, sir,” said the boy, taking the letters from 
the clerk’s hand and examining the address of each. 
“ My letter,” continued he, “ is from my brother.” 

“ Where does your brother live ? ” 

“At McArthur, Ohio. He is a minister. He is 
probably one of the youngest preachers in the State.” 

“ He is your favorite brother, I suppose? ” 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE, 


389 

*'No, sir, my favorite brother, the one I love most, 
left home before I was born. It may sound very 
strangely, sir, but I was named for this absent 
brother.” 

“Do you mean to say that you both have the 
same name?” 

“ Yes, sir, our Christian names are the same.” 

“You are not full brothers ? ” 

“ No, sir, my mother was twice married. She 
named her oldest son Sidney. My father named 
me Sidney, after my brother, whom he loves very 
dearly.” 

The clerk cast another look at the stranger. His 
eyes were filled with tears. 

“What has become of this favorite brother of 
yours ? ” 

The boy gave a brief history of his brother from 
the day he left home up to the beginning of the war, 
and added : 

“ Pa says that we are as much alike as two beans. 
Here is brother Sidney’s picture,” and he took a 
breast-pin from his bosom and handed it to the clerk. 
“ It was taken at the age of thirteen.” 

“Yes,” said the clerk, “ I can "^see no difference 
whatever. I should have believed this miniature 
your own picture, recently taken,” and he again cast 
a searching look at the stranger. Walton turned 
away from the enquiring gaze — his feelings almost 
overcame his resolution, firm as he was. He longed 
to take this pure-hearted, generous-souled boy to 
his bosom, but dared not make himself known. 

“You are all Unionists, I suppose?” said the 
clerk. 


390 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


Yes, indeed, sir, but I can forgive every honest 
Rebel for my brother’s sake.” 

How about your father ? ” 

“ His love for him has undergone no change 
whatever. He says he owes all his happiness to 
my brother, and gratitude is the ruling passion of 
his nature.” 

“ How did that come about ? ” 

“ Oh, it’s a family matter about which I do not 
care to speak.” 

** Your mother’s feelings towards her erring son 
are just the same, I dare say ? ” 

“ Mother has never mentioned his name since the 
day she learned that he had joined the Rebel army.” 

Col. Walton turned away with a deep sigh and 
left the hotel. 

Young Preston started to his room, but suddenly 
returned as though he had forgotten something. 
Leaning upon the clerk’s desk, he said : 

“Mr. Ford, didn’t that man act queerly? What 
do you think of him anyhow ? ” 

“ What do I think ? ” said the clerk, with much 
assurance. “ I think he heard a great deal more 
than he bargained for.” 

“ What do you mean, Mr. Ford ? ” 

“ I am not often mistaken in men. You see, it is 
my business to keep a sharp lookout. In the first 
place, the stranger is a Confederate. On the lapel 
of his coat he wears the insignia of an officer — he 
was a colonel of cavalry. On the buttons of his 
coat are stamped the coat of arms of Kentucky. 
Lastly, he resembles you as one bean resembles 
another. That man is your brother.” 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


391 

“ That’s too good to be true, Mr. Ford ! ” said the 
j boy, rushing to the register. “ His name is S. Hamil- 
i ton. Mobile.” 

“That signifies nothing,” said the clerk. “The 
stranger may never reveal himself, but I am confident 
I that S. Hamilton is your brother.” 

The boy treasured those words in his heart and 
resolved to know more of the stranger before he left 
the city. His first impulse was to tell his father, 
but on consulting the clerk, the latter advised hifn 
not to speak of the matter to any one. 

Sidney drove his father to the hospital in the 
family carriage the next morning after the above 
interview, and on his return stopped to chat with an 
acquaintance who called to him from the street. 

In this conversation Sidney so far forgot him- 
self as to drop the lines. As he was taking leave 
of his friend, a paper was thrown from a third story 
window, immediately above them, which, falling with 
a rustling noise under the horse’s feet, frightened the 
animal terribly, causing him to start at full speed 
down the street. The lad snatched frantically at the 
lines, but too late. They were beyond his reach. 
The crowd on the street ran to the right and left to 
save themselves, some of them shouting to the boy 
to jump out, while others yelled to him to keep his 
seat. The boy, terribly alarmed, rose to his feet, as 
if in the act of jumping to the ground. Just then the 
stranger, already, spoken of, dashed out into the 
middle of the street and threw his hat above his 
head, shouting at the top of his voice, “ Sit down ! ” 
The boy obeyed instinctively. The stranger sprang 
boldly in front of the horse, seizing both reins of the 


392 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


bridle near the bit. He was borne heavily to the 
ground, bringing the horse’s head to the pavement 
in his fall. Both man and horse lay prostrate, bruis- 
ed and bleeding upon the street. The boy alone was 
unhurt. The stranger was lifted from the ground 
but could not stand upon his feet. He was sense- 
less, perhaps fatally wounded. “ What’s his name ?” 
“Where does he live ? ” were the eager questions pf 
the excited crowd. As soon as the frightened boy 
recovered his senses sufficiently to speak, he said : 

“ His name is Hamilton. He is stopping at the 
Galt House. Please assist me in taking him to the 
hotel.” 

Another carriage was procured, and the stranger 
was conveyed at once to the Galt House. Before 
starting, however, young Preston wrote and dispatch- 
ed the following note to his father : 

Dear Papa : — I have just narrowly escaped a terrible death. Prince 
ran away with me, and I would certainly have been killed had it not 
been for a brave stranger who, at the risk of his own life, caught and 
held the runaway horse. He is badly injured — is now senseless and 
helpless. I will have him taken at once to our own apartments at the 
Galt House. May God spare this brave, noble life. Come quickly. 

Your loving Son, 

Sidney Preston. 

P. S.— Have no fears on my account— I am not in the least injured. 

S. P. 

Sidney went before and broke the news as gently 
as possible to his mother. She approved his plan 
of showing gratitude to the stranger, and the injured 
man, carried in strong, willing arms, was gently borne 
into one of the rooms occupied by the Preston 
family. 

Mrs. Preston took one long, searching, anxious 
look at the pallid face, then at her son, who sat 


THE BATTLE OE LIFE. 


393 


by the bed-side chafing the cold, pulseless hands 
of the stranger, and turned sadly away. She, too, 
was pale as death. 

“ My God ! ” said she, rushing from the room and 
I falling upon her knees in an agony of deepest sorrow 
and suspense, he is the very image of my lost boy.” 

When she returned, still trembling with doubts 
and fears, the veil of mystery had been lifted from 
the scene, and all the bitter memories of the wretch- 
' ed past were ebbing out into the ocean of oblivion. 
Her presence alone was needed to constitute a re- 
united and happy household. 

Dr. Preston had previously arrived. Without 
saying a word, he had gone earnestly and quickly to 
work to restoiie this valuable life which came so near 
passing forever beyond the reach of medical skill. 
In five minutes the stranger was restored to 
consciousness, and the balance between life and 
death was turned in his favor. When he opened his 
eyes and said: “Where am I?” the doctor was 
startled ; he almost held his breath in astonishment. 
Here was the face, manner, almost the voice of the 
; long absent boy. 

Sidney rushed to the bed-side of the stranger, 

I and falling upon his knees, said : 

' “Oh, sir, I thank you a thousand, thousand times 
' for saving my life ! It was so brave, so noble and 
I generous in you to save a strange little boy whom 
you did not know, and at the risk of your own life, 
I too ! ” 

“Thank you, my dear little — fellow” — there 
j was a short pause, during which the eyes of the 
stranger wandered from the tearful faces of father 


394 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE, 


and son to the pictures on the wall — familiar pictures 
of the dear old home folks. Here were the portraits 
of Alice and Ella, of Artie, of his dear, dead father, 
and lastly, his favorite dog and pony. His mother 
may not have spoken of him in all these four terrible 
years, but the noble man who sat at his bed-side ; 
the generous, handsome boy now holding him ten- 
derly by the hand — had never ceased to love him. 
He could not dissemble a moment longer. Looking 
Sidney full in the face, he said : 

“True, I saved your life, at the risk of my own,” 
laying his hand tenderly upon the boy’s head, 
“because your life was infinitely more precious to 
me than my own. You are my brother ! ” 

Just at this moment, Mrs. Preston entered the 
room. Sidney sprang from the bed-side to meet 
her. 

“ Oh, mamma ! it is brother Sidney ! ” was all the 
boy could say. 

With a calmness that contrasted strangely with 
the passionate demonstrations of her son, she quietly 
approached the bed-side of her long-lost boy and 
kneeling kissed him very tenderly, saying: 

“ Forgive me, my dear, dear boy ! I have wronged 
you, and God knows I am sorry for it ! Henceforth 
and forever the bitter past shall be forgotten. I 
still love you as of old ; I still love and cherish you 
as I do my own soul ! ” 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE, 


395 


CHAPTER LIII. 

FIERCELY TEMPTED. 

“ But Satan now is wiser than of yore, 

And tempts by making rich, not making poor.’* 

I “ What war so cruel, or what siege so sore, 

As that which strong temptation doth apply 
Against the fort of reason evermore, 
i To bring the soul into captivity ? ” 

W ALTON and his attorney found the affairs 
of Col. Hensley so correctly adjusted that 
it did not take them but a few days to 
I arrange the entire business. The inheritance was 
I much larger than either had expected. The Denis 
Piper estate, with interest, now amounted to nearly 
fifty thousand dollars. Mrs. Parker’s, nee Embree’s, 
legacy amounted to over twenty-five thousand dol- 
lars, while the Felix Parker estate was as yet an un- 
known quantity. There was another item of good 
fortune which Walton and his ■^attorney had not 
heard of. The papers pertaining to the business of 
Col. Logan, sent to Delia by special messenger, bore 
testimony to the existence, in the bank of England, 
of ten thousand pounds sterling, subject alone to his 
sister’s order. The Felix Parker estate was known 
to be immense, but Walton had never supposed it 
half so large as it really was, amounting in the 
aggregate to nearly two hundred thousand dollars. 
The attorney said the case had been so admirably 
managed by Col. Hensley that there now remained 


396 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


but one thing for Miss Logan to do : She had only 
to establish the fact that she was the daughter of 
Philip Logan, and the estates above mentioned 
reverted to her so naturally and regularly as not 'to 
admit of the least doubt or litigation. Delia Logan 
was now one of the richest ladies of the South. 

Alone, and vastly rich, she stands among the ruins 
of her household, the sole survivor and inheritor of 
all they called their own. 

Here was another fierce temptation which Col. 
Walton must meet and battle with alone and unsup- 
ported in the right. Being assured of the love of 
Eva Duvall, and still loving her with all the old love 
which five years of separation had not changed or 
obliterated, he might now desert Delia Logan and 
take with him her fortune, of which she knew noth- 
ing whatever, thereby becoming the equal in wealth 
of the heiress of all the Duvalls, P'elix Parker would 
gladly compromise with the man who held all the 
trump cards in this contested game which involved 
his entire estate ; he would compromise on liberal 
terms and say nothing. 

The lawyer comprehended the situation thor- 
oughly. * When he ascertained that Delia knew 
nothing of the matter whatever, he said : 

“ Colonel, how does it happen that you have be- 
come the sole custodian of this young lady’s vast 
fortune ? Are you a relative of hers ? ” 

I am not in any way related to the young lady. 

I have, as the heir to my uncle’s estate, inherited his 
unsettled business. Those papers relating to the Lo- 
gan estate were all worked up and prepared before 
the war. I do not know the process by which my 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


397 


uncle arrived at the facts in the case ; I only know 
that they are all right and that they secure to Miss 
Logan a vast fortune of which she is utterly igno- 
rant.” 

“Your uncle’s will gives you undisputed control, 
absolute possession of this fortune. Col. Hensley has 
arranged this business so as to hold the bulk of this 
property in his own name ; we have not a scratch of 
the pen to indicate that he did not intend to do so. 
He says in his will : ‘ I herewith bequeath to my 

nephew, Sidney Hensley Walton, all my money, per- 
sonal property, real estate, library, manuscripts, and 
unfinished business' In other words: Your uncle 
wills this property, and, .save in your presence, 
you are a fool if you do not take it.” 

To say that Col. Walton was not fiercely tempted, 
is saying too much for frail human nature. The 
want of money had been the curse of his life. Had 
he gone to Duvall Mansion as the representative of 
a vast fortune he might have been the happy hus- 
band of the most charming and accomplished woman 
he had ever known. He had thus escaped the 
taunts and jeers of Mrs. Duvall, for except in fortune 
he was every way the equal of the woman he loved. 
It was true that he, as the heir of Col. Hensley, was 
now a rich man, but not near so wealthy as Miss 
Duvall. The fortune of Delia Logan, added to the 
Hensley estate, would make him the equal of Miss 
Duvall in wealth, and he could, with self-conscious 
pride^nd dignity, wed the heiress of one of the old- 
est and proudest families of the South. It was the 
ambition of his life to rear a family in that cultivated 
and aristocratic exclusiveness peculiar to the first 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE, 


39S 

families of the South. To accomplish this extrava- 
gant wish, he must have money and a great deal of 
it. Here was a chance to become a millionaire, and 
at the same time free himself of the possible taunts 
of a purse-proud aristocracy, that he owed his dis- 
tinction and wealth solely to his wife. He was 
anxious to start even in the race of fame and fortune. 
He desired above all things that those who should 
bear his name should have every cause to be proud 
of it. Delia could not possibly feel aggrieved in the 
matter. Having never known of her fortune she 
could not suffer from the loss of it. Her only grief 
would be the loss of the man she had loved, not wisely 
but too well. These thoughts rushed rapidly through 
his mind. He had not thought of the matter until 
the sleek, prosperous, well-fed attorney whispered 
the wicked suggestion in his ear and urged him to 
take the money. 

Now, Colonel,” said he, you see this young lady 
is wholly under the influence of her Catholic friends. 
She is now an assistant teacher in a Catholic semin- 
ary at Mobile. Throw this fortune into her lap, and 
it will go in charities to the Catholic church. She 
will endow a college or hospital, and in the end, no 
doubt, take the veil and the church will take posses- 
sion of all her fortune. Now if you take this money 
it will never be wasted in thus fostering and building 
up a denomination hostile to all that we, as Protes- 
tants, hold sacred and dear.” 

Sir,” said Col. Walton, “ you must not say a word 
against Miss Logan. I know her too well to believe 
that she would foolishly squander her money. As 
to her charitable inclinations, thank God it is true, 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE, 


399 


and I honor and love her all the more for her kind- 
ness to those in want. I will listen to no words of 
censure or disrespect aimed at this lady, for Delia 
Logan is a Christian woman of the purest and noblest 
motives. You are advising me to rob this woman 
in the cause of God and morality, thereby showing 
the blackness of your heart and the perfidity of 
your nature. You are mistaken in your man. I did 
wrong to listen a moment to the evil words you have 
been pouring into my ears. Make out a bill for your 
services, sir, that I may settle with you at once. 
Your advice is shameful ; it is a disgrace to the hon- 
orable profession to which you belong. You have 
advised me to commit a crime which, if consummated 
and exposed, would send me to the penitentiary. 
You are an infamous villain ; I despise you ! ” 

The lawyer quietly made out his bill without say- 
ing a word in reply. When finished. Col. Walton 
paid him and said : 

“ Go, and sin no more.” 

If Col. Walton’s temptation was a severe one, 
Delia’s was even greater, as the sequel will plainly 

show. ^ 

Miss Logan had returned to her old friend, Mrs. 
Moreau, where she resumed her former labors in the 
school room. With the sad news of her brother’s 
death came the strange letter written by her lover, 
hifiting at the good fortune in store for her; words 
far beyond her comprehension, if indeed they meant 
anything beyond his own good fortune. Never did 
a messenger bring such varied and conflicting intel- 
ligence ; so much of pain and joy, so much to excite 
hopes and occasion doubts and fears. She learned 


400 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE, 


from the sealed package, addressed to her before her 
brother’s death, that she was an heiress to the extent 
of all he possessed. Walton could hardly have 
spoken of this legacy, for had her brother confided 
the secret to him he would certainly have been more 
explicit in speaking of it, for there could be no cause 
for secrecy. The most painful intelligence, how- 
ever, was Eva Duvall’s first letter to Sidney Wal- 
ton — the one her brother had treacherously with- 
held in the fond, delusive hope of winning the heart 
and hand of Miss Duvall. Delia knew this letter 
had reached her by accident. Her brother had 
hurriedly placed it in the package, with his will and 
other papers, and being suddenly killed in battle, 
had not time to think of the probable result of his 
strange blunder. Delia knew that she could destroy 
this^letter and none would ever be the wiser. Wal- 
ton’s love for her had not changed, and while ig- 
norant of the truth, would never change. Love for 
him was the ruling passion of her nature. She could 
never be happy without his love in return. She 
could destroy this letter and all would be well. This 
was Delia Logan’s temptation. It was a fierce strug- 
gle, but as usual with this brave, noble woman duty 
prevailed. She would sacrifice her own love, her 
own heart, her own happiness for those she loved. 
She honestly believed that Walton was still ignorant 
of Eva’s devotion. To withhold the truth from 
him, even at the very threshold of the altar, would 
be little less than criminal. She would tell him all. 
Doubting if her strength was sufficient for this trying 
ordeal, she thought of writing to Walton, enclosing 
Eva’s letter, and then sailing for England on the 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


401 


inext steamer, thus putting the broad Atlantic be- 
tween her and her lover that she might not be 
tempted to act contrary to her own convictions of 
right and duty. 

Having made up her mind not to see Col. Wal- 
ton, she was anxious to go at once. It was hardly 
possible that she had fallen heir to any other for- 
tune than that left by her brother. Her lover had 
probably inherited an estate and was jesting about 
the mutual wealth that must result from their union. 
It was love, happiness, contentment, he was speak- 
! ing of, not money. His love would have been prized 
I even above his own estimate, could she have truth- 
fully called this love her own. 

Delia had strolled in the twilight down to the har- 
bor where sfie loved to watch the ships coming and 
going, thinking sadly of her own voyage across the 
sea. The young ladies of the seminary who accom- 
panied her wondered at her gloomy silence. Alas ! 
they knew not, could not even imagine the fierce 
struggle raging in the mind and heart of their be- 
loved teacher. 

Standing near a gas lamp, the light of which shone 
through the drooping bows of a large willow, sway- 
ing gently to and fro in the soft breeze, Delia Logan 
listlessly gazed at an oceam steamer now near 
enough to be distinctly seen without glasses. To- 
tally oblivious of her surroundings, she was thinking 
of her intended voyage, and debating in her own 
mind whether she should go at once or wait for 
Colonel Walton’s return. Suddenly she felt the 
gentle touch of a small, soft hand clasping hers, and 
ere she could turn her face the words, ‘^Miss Delia!” 

2 ^ 


402 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


spoken in a familiar tone, fell upon her ear. It was 
Wilfred Andrews. 

** Why, Wilfred ! ” said Delia, kissing the boy ten- 
derly as of old, ‘‘you surprised me. Where have 
you been since I left the mansion ? ” 

“ I have been at Montgomery attending school.’* 
“ Your sisters? where are they?” 

“They are with Aunt Ford, father’s sister.” 

“And your father?” 

“Oh, pa’s been everywhere almost. He is on 
that ship that’s coming up the bay now. I’ve come 
to meet him. Pa has come for us. He now has a 
plantation on the island of St. Thomas, where he 
means to live. Aunt Ford will go out to our new 
home and keep house for us. Oh, Miss Delia ! ” 
said the boy, with much of his old animation, “ it is 
the sweetest, loveliest place in the world ! Here is 
a picture of our new home. Ain’t it lovely ? ” and 
he produced a large photograph of his father’s 
mansion. “You see, the lawn sweeps gently down 
to the sea, or to this little bay in front, lined on either 
shore by orange trees. This beautiful boat you see 
in the bay was made in England. Pa had it made 
for me. You can’t make out the name, can you? ” 
“No — yes,” said Delia, putting her glass to her 
eyes. “ Wilfred Andrews.” 

“Yes,” said the boy, laughing, “that’s the name. 
Ain’t it pretty? and won’t it be nice rowing around 
our beautiful island home where it is always 
summer ? Oh, I’m so glad pa is going to take us to 
this beautiful place where we can live in perfect ease 
and quiet. I love a quiet life, and pa does, 'too. I 
wish you would come and live with us ; we would 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


403 


then be so very, very happy ! And we would not 
have to go away from home to learn, for you know 
everything they teach in schools and colleges.” 

In a few minutes the “ Prince Arthur” landed and 
Maj. Andrews was at the side of his son and Miss 
Logan. The meeting, so far as Delia was concerned, 
was accidental and unexpected, but pleasant. 

After a few words of friendly greeting, Maj. An- 
drews expressed the desire of meeting Delia again 
before he left the United States, and was cordially 
invited to call at the seminary. If still there, she 
would be pleased to meet him. 

“Then you think of leaving Mobile?” said Maj. 
Andrews. 

“ Yes, it is only a matter of time. In two weeks 
from now, perhaps, I will be an alien.” 

“ Is it possible ? May I ask to what part of the 
world you think of going?” 

“ I shall go to England.” 

“ Excuse me. Miss Logan, if my interest in your 
welfare and happiness should prompt me to ask 
what otherwise might appear to be an impertinent 
question : will you go to England as Mrs. Walton ?” 
^^^hall go as Miss Logan, Major.” 

“Is Col. Walton still living?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“ Do you think of making your home in England ?” 

“ That is my intention at present.” 

“ Will you go out as teacher or companion ? ” 

“ No, thank God ! I am now independent of the 
drudgery of teaching. My brother, who was killed 
in the Confederate army, left me a considerable for- 
tune, which is on deposit in the Bank ol England. 


404 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE, 


1 shall go to that country, claim my fortune and re- 
main there. I may go in three days — it may be 
three weeks. If I am still at the seminary on your 
return I would be pleased to see you and the chil- 
dren once more before we become foreigners. You 
can address your card and a note of enquiry to Mrs. 
Moreau, principal of the seminary.” 

It was only a feeling of kindness that prompted 
Delia Logan to invite Maj. Andrews to call on her 
at the seminary, and kindness, even, had not 
prompted the civility had he not hinted for an invi- 
tation. There was more than a feeling of friendship 
lurking in Maj. Andrews’ heart — a hope he had not 
dared to cherish until to-day. If Delia Logan meant 
not to wed Sidney Walton, why should he not 
hope to win her heart'’ and hand in marriage ? Alas 
for Maj. Andrews ! It was hard for him to believe ; 
it is hard for many good people to believe that there 
are women, and men, too, who can love but once. 


While Delia was wavering between the wish to go 
and the desire to remain. Col. Walton suddenly ar- 
rived at Mobile. His coming was unannbunced and 
unexpected. Delia had supposed from his second 
letter, written from Louisville, that he would not ar- 
rive for several weeks. 

Sidney Walton and Delia Logan were once more 
face to face. Never, perhaps, in romance or history, 
in song or fable, did lovers meet under such peculiar 
circumstances — meet to consummate the sacrifice of 
their own hearts upon the altar of duty. Walton’j 
for Delia’s sake, meant to keep the secret of Eva’s 
letter locked forever in his own bosom. Delia, for 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


405 


Walton’s sake, and for Eva’s as well, meant to tell 
j him the whole truth. It was to each a matter of 
duty, a matter of conscience. Each supposed the 
j other ignorant of the painful secret which one re- 
j solves to suppress, the other to reveal. 

“ Delia,” said Colonel Walton, after exchanging a 
few words of friendly greeting, did you get my let- 
ter?” 

“Yes, and my brother’s papers also. Never be- 
fore, perhaps, did a courier bring such wonderful 
news to another as did the soldier you sent to me.” 

“I would gladly have spared you the news of your 
brother’s death — the friend for whom I have shed so 
many bitter tears — but it was your right to know the 
worst, and it was my duty to inform you. Save this 
sad item of intelligence, the messenger was the bear- 
er of good news indeed.” 

“ There was much to rejoice over — more than you 
are aware of, perhaps. My brother left me a fortune 
of ten thousand pounds. Perhaps you are already 
aware of this, as you spoke of my inheritance in your 
letter?” 

^*SNot of your brother’s legacy, for of that good 
fortune I knew nothing. My dear, we are wonder- 
fully blessed after all our sorrows and disappoint- 
ments; after all those wretched years of poverty and 
misfortune. You are yet ignorant of the best news 
of all. I have discovered .your family, and you are 
the sole heir to an immense fortune left by your 
grandfather.” 

Then followed a recital of that portion of Philip 
Logan’s history yet unknown to Delia but familiar 
to the reader of this story. Delia remembered her 


4o6 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


uncle Felix Parker. They had met once at the res- 
idence of Capt. Temple, in New Orleans. Walton 
also remembered the gentleman and the circum- 
stances under which they met — it was hardly pos- 
sible for him to forget the ball and the many stirring 
events connected therewith. After discussing P'elix 
Parker, Col. Walton spoke of Mrs. Parker, and her 
estate, but before he could finish the sentence Delia 
cried out with much feeling: 

My grandmother’s will was lost ! My poor father 
had the paper in his pocket when killed. He had 
written to mamma about the will, but we could never 
find it. His gold watch was also taken.” 

Be of good cheer, my dearest ; here is the will 
and the gold watch. Do not ask me how I came in 
possession of this precious document and the watch 
— I cannot, must not, speak of that — but here they 
are, safe and sound.” 

How fortunate !” said Delia in an ecstacy of de- 
light. 

“ Here,” continued Walton, '' is a certificate of 
deposit representing the Piper estate. You have 
only to establish your identity as the only surviving 
heir of Philip Logan to entitle you to the money. 
And here are the papers to establish your title to the 
estate of Gabriel Parker. I have investigated the 
matter thoroughly since leaving Kentucky and find 
this estate to be worth not less than two hundred 
thousand dollars. I told you in my letter that I 
would, God willing, not only make you Mrs. Walton 
on my return to Mobile, but also the richest woman 
in the countr}^ You are worth over two hundred 
and fifty thousand dollars in your own name. When 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


407 


I shall have bestowed my own name and fortune we 
will be worth at least three hundred thousand dol- 
lars, for I too have fallen heir to an estate which I 
inherited from my uncle, Col. Kit. Hensley, of Ken- 
tucky.” 

Delia Logan examined the papers slowly and care- 
fully. Her silence, her coolness of manner, was pain- 
ful to Col. Walton. He had never seen her so 
uncommunicative before. At last, folding the papers 
and laying them carefully away, she said : 

“ I thank you. Colonel Walton, for your kindness. 
It was singularly fortunate that all those valuable 
papers should have fallen into your hands, for I see 
from the import of several of them that I might have 
been terribly wronged had they fallen into dishonest 
hands. I rejoice at the turn affairs have taken, but 
not so much on my own account. Having been used 
to poverty, I have no extravagant wants to gratify. 
I rejoice most at the prospect of being able to do 
good to others. Having no kindred, having none but 
myself to care for, a few thousand a year will be 
^ply sufficient for all my wants. The bulk of my 
inctnne shall go in the way of charities. I have noth- 
ing else to do now, nothing else to care for but the 
poor. I will go to London, the largest city in the 
world, and reside during the remainder of my life. I 
have many friends already in that great city, and ex- 
pect to find many more. I mean to claim but one- 
half of my uncle’s estate— giving him a child’s part 
of his father’s property. So you see it will not take 
many minutes to settle that besiness.” 

Col. Walton listened in profound and painful as- 
tonishment. Having made up his mind to marry 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE, 


408 

Miss Logan, he had not dreamed that she would 
present the least obstacle to their union. The mo- 
ment he found himself in her presence, the old love, 
with all the warmth and fervor of other days, re- 
turned. Nothing but her coldness of manner had 
restrained him from pressing her to his bosom as 
when they parted three years before. 

Delia,” said he, for God’s sake tell me what 
you mean by this strange talk; by this coldness of 
manner; by this business-like conversation? I have 
come as a lover, not as an attorney ! I have come 
to you as your future husband, not as a privileged 
stranger ! Do tell me what I have done to merit 
this cold, cruel reception !” and he clasped her hand 
in his and looked wistfully into her sad, pale face. 

Delia rose from her seat without speaking, and 
opening the drawer of a small escritroirey took there- 
from a letter which she silently and calmly placed 
in the hand of her passionate and outraged lover. 
It was the letter which Eva Duvall had twice placed 
in the hands of John Logan; the letter which he had 
twice pledged his word of honor to deliver; the letter 
he had twice suppressed. It told the whole story. 
It was the history of Eva’s love and her wrongs — 
the history of Logan’s treachery. 

Walton turned deadly pale as he read this letter. 
He had never seen or heard of its contents before. 
He had found the letter sealed but unaddressed 
among Logan’s papers and had sent it to Delia with- 
out knowing or even suspecting its contents, and, in 
so doing, probably changed his own destiny as well 
as that of the woman he truly loved ; the woman he 
had come to wed. He knew Delia Logan too well 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


409 


to attempt persuasion. He knew that she had suf- 
fered more than the pangs of death ere she had con- 
quered what had otherwise been the ruling passion 
of her nature, the desire to become the partner of 
his life, the wish to mutually share with him the 
good fortune which had so strangely fallen to them 
both. While she would have clung to him as closely 
in poverty, she had longed with all the fervor of her 
generous heart to lay this vast fortune at his feet. 

The parting scene was sad and tearful. Walton 
never knew until he took her hand in his and tried 
to say good-bye, how much he loved this noble, 
unselfish, queenly woman. For the moment, he 
wished in his heart that he had never seen or heard 
of Eva Duvall. Delia seemed to divine his thoughts, 
and said : 

“ Eva is very good. She is very, very beautiful. 
Having loved her once, you will love her with far 
more than the old affection when you shall have 
learned from her own lips how much she has suffered 
for your sake. You must give her your whole heart. 
D^'^iot think of me. If-you cannot wholly forget 
Delia Logan, think of her as one of the humblest 
and happiest of God’s creatures. Tell Eva that I 
gave her a husband, but in so doing, I deprived my- 
self of the crowning joy of a woman’s life, a man’s 
Jove !” 


410 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


CHAPTER LIV. 


A WOMAN S DESTINY. 


“ Alas ! what stay is there in human state, 

Or who can shun inevitable fate ? 

The doom was written, the decree was past, 

Ere the foundations of the world were cast.” 

^ I ELIA’S uncle received her with open arms. 

AJ |5he was accompanied by her attorney, who 
briefly explained to Felix Parker that she 
was heir to all he called his own. Parker asked to 
see Delia in private. He entered the room with 
tears in his ears. Going up to Delia he took both 
her hands in his and said : 

I have been expecting this nearly all the days of 
my life. I knew this vast estate was the rightful 
inheritance of another; knew that a great wrong 
had been perpetrated for my sake, but I am innocent. 
God knows it has never been my wish or aim to 
wrong any one, much less my brother. I owe my 
existence and my fortune to the crimes of another, 
but I am not a criminal. If I know my own heart, 
I am honest in the sight of God and man. Your 
father, were he alive to-day, could lay none of his 
misfortunes at my door. The law gives you all my 
father’s estate. His crime returns to crush his inno- 
cent son. I am a pauper; I have not the legal 
right even to bear my father’s name. All I ask is 
time to remove my wife and children from your 
house and your land. You shall never have Cause 
to complain of me or mine/’ 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


411 

I ** My dear uncle,” said Delia, as the tears coursed 
down her cheeks, “ it is true the law gives me all, 
but do not think for a moment that I am so avari- 
cious and cruel as to drive you from this beautiful 
home which you have been taught to regard as your 
own froyn earliest boyhood. We are near of kin. 
Blood is thicker than water. There are but us two 
to inherit the fortune of Gabriel Parker. You shall 
have your share — you shall have one-half the estate.” 

Felix Parker would have fallen upon his knees at 
Delia’s feet, so thankful was he for this unexpected 
kindness, but she restrained him, declaring that she 
neither expected or desired the least thanks, having 
done no more than her duty. 

Having secured her portion of the estate in cash 
and drafts' on New Orleans, Delia next secured bills 
of credit to the amount of two hundred thousand 
dollars, payable in London, and prepared to sail for 
England. 

associations had become painful. She longed 
with the eager desire qf a child to put the wide 
Atlantic between herself and all that could call to 
mind the bitter memories of the past. When she 
visited the agency for the purpose of securing pass- 
age to Liverpool, the clerk informed her that it would 
' be a week before the next steamer sailed for that 
port. If*anxious to go at once, he could accommo- 
date her with a ticket on board *a sailing vessel, then 
almost ready to weigh anchor. “The accommoda- 
tions,” continued he, “ are first-class, but at this sea- 
son of the year not so safe.” 

After a moment’s reflection, Delia decided to pur- 
chase a ticket on board the sailing vessel. Bidding 


412 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE, 


adieu to Mrs. Moreau, a few hours later she went 
aboard the vessel and in five minutes the ship was 
under sail. 

Dark, ominous clouds hung low and threatening 
in the Western horizon, and as night came on bright 
and vivid flashes of lightning were seen to leap from 
the billowy mass, lighting up a dreary waste of ocean 
yet unruffled by the terrible wind storm which silently 
lurked in the dense clouds. It was a fearful night. 
Old sailors gazed out into the darkness and shook 
their heads in dreary silence. By ten o’clock all the 
sails were closely furled and every preparation com- 
pleted for breasting the approaching storm. Delia 
placed her valuable papers, jewels and money in a 
rubber belt, which, with a life preserver, she placed 
around her body, not waiting for the crash to come 
ere she was ready to buffet the frightful waves. 

The storm proved more terrible than the oldest 
and most experienced sailor had predicted. The ill- 
fated vessel was driven before the tempest with 
frightful rapidity. At last the cry of “ land ! land ! ” 
was heard on deck. In another moment the vessel 
struck heavily against a reef and the wildest con- 
sternation at once prevailed. Delia left her berth 
and mingled with the wild and shrieking crowd on 
deck. The officers of the vessel tried in vain to 
calm the excited throng, now frantically clamoring 
for ^the life boats. At last the boats were lower- 
ed, and as the captain had predicted, the frantic 
crowd rushed wildly into them, filling both beyond 
their capacity, and before they were clear of the ship 
each foundered under their burden of living freight. 

Delia Logan, with wonderful coolness and pres- 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


413 


1 

I ence of mind, did not attempt to escape in the life 
boat. Going to her berth, she took therefrom a 
mattress, and clasping it tightly in her arms with the 
courage and strength of despair, she hurried aft just 
in time to jump clear of the sinking vessel. 

The ship had fired an alarm gun and hoisted col- 
ored lights soon after striking the reef, and the last 
signal had been answered from shore. Delia re- 
membered seeing a light which seemed to be moving 
towards the vessel just as she leaped into the sea. 
Then a strange feeling came over her and all seemed 
dark again. How long she remained unconscious 
she did not know. When she came to herself she 
was lying on a luxurious couch in a richly furnished 
room. The peculiar furniture, the rich lace cur- 
tains, the antique dressing case, all seemed familiar. 
Was she in a trance? Was she living or dead? 
She hardly dared to open her eyes, for, look where 
she would, objects strangely familiar met her gaze. 
Th6--suspense was terrible. She could stand it no 
longer. Upon a small tabje, within easy reach, lay 
a tiny silver bell. She seized it in her trembling, 
nervous fingers. At the first sound a beautiful lady, 
thirty-five or forty years of age, entered the room. 

“ Excuse, me, my dear,” said she, taking a seat by 
the bed and holding a glass of wine to Delia’s lips. 

Excuse me for leaving you alone. The doctor said 
you only needed quiet; that we must let you sleep. 
He is a Dane and speaks a language unfamiliar to 
our ears, but we could understand that much.” 

“ Then I am in Denmark, I suppose ? ” 

“ No, indeed,” said the lady, smiling, '‘you are on 
the island of St. Thomas, which is a Danish colony, 
you know.” 


414 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


“ Yes, yes, I remember ; but do tell me how I came 
here.” 

“You were on the wrecked vessel. My brother 
rescued twenty of the crew, thanks to his strength 
’"and courage ! You were the last one brought ashore. 
You were found clinging to a mattress, and so tightly 
that it could with difficulty be taken from your grasp. 
Here comes my brother now — he will tell you all 
about it.” And the good woman left the room just 
as her brother entered. 

“ Delia ! ” 

“ Maj. Andrews ! ” 

Taking her small, white, trembling hand in his, 
while the tears coursed down his manly face, the 
Major said : 

“ God has sent you to me, Delia ! ” 

Her large, dark eyes filled with tears. She did 
not speak. Resting her hand in his, her lips moved 
as if to speak, but not a word was uttered. 

“You came to me once like an angel of mercy. 
You were the light and joy of our dear old Tennes- 
see home. Will you ribt stay to cheer me and mine 
in our beautiful island home ? ” 

“ Maj. Andrews, could you love a woman who 
loves another — a woman who cannot love but once ?” 

“ I know you once loved Col. Walton. I do not 
know, do not care to know, why this love was not 
consummated by marriage. All I ask, Delia, is that 
you honor and respect me, and love my children!'' 

“I love the children — God knows how truly!” 

“ This is all I ask. You have but to consent to be 
my wife to make me the happiest man on earth !” 

“ Are you sure you will not grow cold ; that you 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


415 

will not weary of a wife whose only claim to your 
affection is that she loves your children ?’^ 

Sure, very sure. Besides I do not despair of yet 
winning your love, and shall strive for it without 
ceasing.” 

** Maj. Andrews, you are too noble, too generous ! 
You are worthy of a better wife than I could ever 

be r 

** I am glad you think so well of me ; but pray do 
i.ot place your estimate too high ; it must not be 
made a barrier between us.” 

After a moment’s silence, Maj. Andrews continued : 

*‘We have known and respected each other for 
years. My children not only know you, but love 
you. Scarcely a day passes that they do not speak 
of you. To love you is part of their nature. Say, 
will you not, for their sakes, be a mother to those 
dear little lambs who already love you as they loved 
their dead mother?” 

A^4lie least mention of his children, Maj. Andrews* 
eyes filled with tears, and his strong, vigorous body 
swayed to and fro with unrestrained emotion. 

Many tender thoughts passed rapidly through the 
mind of Pelia Logan ; many recollections of the happy 
past. Perhaps God had chosen her work for her. Per- 
haps her own plans were not for the best after all. Her 
strong religious feeling appealed to her at this mo- 
ment, and the finger of destiny seemed no longer to 
point in the direction of London hospitals and charity 
schools, but towards a nursery aud school room 
nearer home. She had already arrived at the scene 
of her life-work. The spirit — that bright and glowing 
inner consciousness — told her so. It were wicked to 


4i6 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE, 


rebel. Taking the outstretched hands of Maj. An- 
drews in her own, she meekly whispered : 
wilir 

She continued her journey, but not alone. Soon 
after their arrival in London, the following appeared 
in the Times of that city : 

Married : — At St Paul’s Cathedral, on Thursday last, His Grace, 
the Bishop of London, officiating, Maj. Andrews, of the island of St. 
Thomas, America, and Miss Cordelia Logan- Parker, of Mobile, United 
States of America. The bridegroom is a lawyer of distinction, also a 
wealthy planter on the island of St. Thomas. He was a widower and 
the father of three children — the eldest. Master Wilfred, was present 
at the marriage. The bride is a sister of the distinguished comedian, 
“Paul Donoho,” who was killed on the Confederate side in the late 
war between the States. She brings to her husband a dowry of fifty 
thousand pounds. The bride elect, not liking their island home, the 
Major has bargained for Berwick Place, a beautiful villa on the Thames, 
thirty miles from London. Both husband and wife having been devoted 
tolthe Rebel cause, have not the least desire to return to the United 
States, and have declared their purpose of making England their future 
home. We welcome Maj. Andrews and his interesting family to all 
the rights of citizenship, and hope their lives may be crowned with 
much joy and contentment. 


’ CHAPxfk LV. 


CONCLUSION. 


“ Last scene of all 

“ That ends this strange, eventful history.” 



WELVE years have elapsed since the events 
occurred as narrated in the last chapter. 


The “Battle of Life,” with its strange vicissi- 
tudes of fortune, its victories and defeats, its hopes 
and disappointments, has ended. 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


417 


The ebb and flow of human events, as narrated in 
this story, have at last reached that perfect calm for 
which all nature struggles, for which many of the 
characters of this story longed and labored without 
ceasing, and yet sadly in vain. Most of them now 
sleep the sleep that knows no waking — are henceforth 
and forever beyond the reach of praise or blame. 

Col. Amos Walton, now that his fitful life is over, 
sleeps calmly near the battle field where he was slain. 
Generous to a fault, possessing a heart in perfect 
sympathy with his race, a patriotism equal to all the 
trials and dangers of a soldier’s life, and a love of 
home and kindred that was sublimely pathetic, he 
was yet burdened with one great crime, which, 
l^emesis-like, dogged his footsteps from boyhood to 
manhood, from manhood to old age. But one hope, 
but one ambition of this sadly checkered life has 
been fully gratified. Harsh, relentless fortune did 
not smile upon him until the curtain rose on the last 
sc^e~of his eventful history. He had passionately 
hoped to leave behind a spn who would be the man he 
might have been but for his own misfortunes. He did 
not realize the desire of his loving, paternal heart un- 
til he fell mortally wounded and was carried into the 
tent of Col. Sidney Walton, there to die in the arms 
of his son. Had not fortune dealt thus kindly in the 
last hours of his life, he would have known but little 
of the hero of this story; of the splendid specimen 
of true manhood he had left behind to fill the place 
made almost void by his own blighted, wretched life ; 
had else known nothing of the well-rounded, splen- 
didly developed manhood of the boy he loved so 
well. 


THK BATTLE OF LIFE, 


418 

In a narrow, secluded valley, beneath the tall 
Southern pines, whose branches sigh and moan in 
the breeze, sleeps the unfortunate and misguided 
lover of Eva Duvall, the friend of Sidney Walton’s 
boyhood, the gallant soldier and genial companion, 
John Logan. Around his tomb, in unmarked and 
unknown graves, sleep twenty brave Kentuckians, 
privates, but heroes all of them. The good people 
of the neighborhood have fenced in the little grave- 
yard and planted a few flowers and evergreens about 
those humble graves. Walton, in fond remembrance 
of his youthful friend, and the woman he once loved, 
placed a granite slab over the humble grave of the 
man who, when a small boy like himself, had extend- 
ed a friendly hand to- the otherwise friendless little 
waif, driven by persecution and poverty from the 
home and protection of his kindred. ’Mid the frui- 
tion of all his hopes, when at last victorious in the 
fierce battle of life and as happy as heart could wish, 
Walton could not think of the sad ending of this 
brilliant and generous life without shedding tears. 
He could never forget the last two days of Logan’s 
life — the sad, piteous look — the yearning desire to 
confess a fault he had not the moral courage to men- 
tion. The scene will haunt his mind and heart as 
long as life remains. 

Col. Philip Logan lies buried in sight of Duvall 
Glen. He is nearly forgotten. No one ever men- 
tions his name. Col. Walton, in telling his children 
of the double victory he gained on that battlefield — 
over the Federal cavalry, and their grandmother’s 
prejudice — always speaks of the dead colonel as 
‘‘ the officer who tried to murder me.” He does not 


TBE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


419 


want his sons to know that this wicked man was the 
father of his dearest friend, John Logan. It is well, 
for his youngest boy bears the name of the dead 
actor coupled with that of his distinguished kins- 
man, Col. Hensley. His brother, older by two 
years, answers to the name of Morris Preston. 
There ,is still another child, the youngest of all, 
whom Col. Walton did not name. Eva calls her 
Delia. 

Duvall Glen is the same beautiful mansion of old. 
The family spend their winters in New Orleans, 
where they have an elegant establishment and many 
kind friends. Mrs. Duvall is very fond of her son- 
in-law and fairly dotes on her grand-children, whom 
she declares to be the prettiest, smartest and best 
children in the world. She is very bitter against 
Mrs. Early and her charming daughter, declaring 
tli^^Trad it not been for those ungrateful women she 
would certainly have taken Col. Walton to her heart 
and home at first without the disagreeable apologies 
she felt in duty bound to make. Speaking of apolo- 
gies, she is a genius in that line. Col. Walton and 
Eva had not been married a week before she had 
convinced him that she always liked him very much 
indeed. .As to Allan Early, she had always liked 
him well enough, she said, but could not tolerate 
his mother and sister. To tell the truth, tfie old lady 
is really very fond of Col. Walton, and as her good 
opinion increases, she feels more and more ashamed 
of herself for having treated him so badly. Upon 
the anniversary of the day she displayed the black 
flag from her window, cursing her daughter’s lover 
with the curse of innocent blood, the same window 


420 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE, 


is ornamented most beautifully. The words, 
Mother’s Blessing,” worked in flowers and ever- 
greens, form the center of a large floral wreath most 
beautiful and pleasing, especially to Col. Walton, 
who alone understands the full meaning of ** grand- 
ma’s blessing.” Eva is puzzled to know why her 
mother should select a day that is not celebrated 
for anything else connected with their family history, 
but her husband wisely keeps that painful incident 
a profound secret. It is not the only secret he must 
keep forever hushed in the profoundest depths of his 
own heart. It would blight the lives of three people, 
all very, very dear to him, to know that Col. Amos 
Walton had not died until the third year of the war. 
They are all very happy in the dear old Ohio home. 
His parents are innocent in the sight of God, not 
knowing the truth, and it is his duty to keep them 
forever ignorant of the painful fact. Hence he has 
not dared to put any inscription upon the shaft 
which marks the lone and silent resting place of his 
father. His title, his regiment and age is all the 
shaft reveals to the eye of the stranger. It was his 
duty to his parents, and to Sidney Preston, his half 
brother, whom he loved with all his heart and soul. 
The generous, loving kindness of this boy for the 
brother he had never seen ; his efforts to reconcile 
his mother and restore the eldest son to the home 
of his youth, is one of the brightest incidents re- 
corded in this story. No wonder Sidney Walton 
loves his “ little brother,” as he still calls his name- 
sake, who is the life and light of the old home. 

Allan Early is, as he richly deserves, happy and 
propserous. He and the Temples are still among 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


421 


the warmest and truest friends of Col. Walton. The 
former has shown his love and admiration in the 
most tender and appreciative manner — by naming 
his only son Sidney Walton. His mother and sis- 
ter protested in vain. They declared, with much 
warmth of feeling, that if he named the boy Walton 
they would never speak to him again, but to no pur- 
pose. Mrs. Early and her charming, adorable 
daughter, now a confirmed old maid, declared that 
Allan had not only disgraced himself by marrying 
the daughter of a gambler, but had outraged all 
sense of decency by naming his boy after a Yankee 
adventurer, who was not only the son of a criminal, 
but little less than a knave himself. 

Those excellent ladies were terribly indignant 
over the utter failure of all their plans, but most 
indignant at the loss of their old friends, the Duvalls. 
Eva, though exceptionally kind and forgiving in her 
nature,^ would never pardon the injuries she had re- 
ceived at the hands of Mrs. Early and her daughter, 
because aimed at the good name of the man she 
loved. She could have condoned almost any wrong 
done herself, but against Col. Walton, never. She 
was not alone in this feeling. Mrs. Duvall, when at 
last fully apprised of all their plots and intrigues^ 
hated them no less. Col. Walton, strong in his own 
integrity, firm and self-reliant in the high position to 
which he had attained, laughed at those angry 
demonstrations, and would have made a jest of the 
whole matter, but in this family quarrel he had 
neither influence nor authority, and soon despaired 
of reconciling his wife and mother-in-law to their 
troublesome and gossiping neighbors. It was wholly 


422 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


for Col. Early and Allan’s sake that Walton made 
the effort. 

As to Col. Early, he is far from happy. Now and 
then he takes a trip to New Orleans, where he en- 
joys a few weeks of precious quiet and loving peace 
in the bosom of his son’s family. Minnie is so very, 
very kind to him that it is almost as cruel as death 
to part from them and. return to his scolding wife 
and ill-natured daughter. The only real happiness 
that has fallen to him in his old age is the knowledge 
that his son is noble, generous and good ; that he is 
happily married and pleasantly situated; that the 
honored name he bears will not be clouded or dark- 
ened by him or his. The old man is still drifting 
with the tide. Without ambition, indulging but few 
hopes of the future, he is still striving to do his duty 
as a gentleman should, hoping against hope for that 
perfect peace and quiet that can only come to him 
when he sleeps the last sleep by the side of his bosom 
friend, Prentiss Duvall. 

Maj. Andrews is the well-paid attorney of a Lon- 
don corporation whose capital amounts to millions 
of dollars. His duty is only to advise the managers 
of this immense busines relative to points of law. 
^Mrs. Andrews is the center of a highly cultivated 
and aristocratic circle. Her good judgment and su- 
perior education have enabled her to take the lead 
in London society. She is the happy mother of a 
son and daughter, the eldest a handsome boy of ten 
years, whom, from maternal love and sympathy, she 
named Davost. The daughter, a few years younger, 
is the very picture of the mother. Delia christened 
her Eva. Mrs. Andrews can hardly realize that there 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


423 


was ever a time when she did not truly love her hus- 
band. It was a strange fallacy, the thought that she 
could only honor and respect the father of her chil- 
dren. She thanks God devoutly that her lot has 
been cast irt such pleasant places, for she is very 
happy. Having drunk of the bitterest cup of sor- 
row ; having stood in the very front ranks — and so 
very bravely — throughout the fierce struggle that 
begins and ends with the “ Battle of Life having 
suffered most of all — and so patiently — it is but fair 
that she should share in the richest spoils of victory. 
None of all the characters who figure in this eventful 
history of human life and effort are more happy than 
she, and none are more deserving. 

Mt^'Astar and Duvall Glen are far apart, if we 
compute distance by miles, but love annihilates 
space, abridges distance, and brings the two families 
very near together. When the weather is quite cold, 
Mrs. Preston enjoys a few months in the Sunny 
South, and Eva dearly loves to visit Mt. Astar when 
the' weather is warm. The war is never mentioned 
by either, but Dr. Preston and Sidney spend many 
pleasant hours in talking of the terrible struggle in 
which the Colonel was an active and distinguished 
participant. His gray uniform, his sword and medals, 
are priceless relics that increase in value as the bit- 
ness of the war grows less. He delights to show 
them to his many friends, and to Dr. Preston most 
of all ; but he has never dared to show them to his 
mother. The wisdom of love has taught mother and 
son never to mention the war, nor allow it mention- 
ed in their presence. 

If the crime of murder, the fault of intemperance 


424 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE, 


and the sin of seduction, with their train of evil con- 
sequences, affecting not only the guilty but the inno- 
cent, have left their impressions for good on the mind 
of the reader, our labor has not been in vain. The 
crimes of Gabriel Parker and the elder Walton, and 
the inherent wickedness of Philip Logan, have been 
fruitful of sad results, but the guilty have not stood 
alone in the pillory of righteous retribution. Sins, 
offensive to God and man, do not end with their per- 
petration nor with the perpetrator. The cL'Mren of 
such evil-doers, though innocent, often suffer more 
than their parents. There are times when nothing 
but a conscience void of offense in the sight of God 
and man, can enable the honest victims of inherited 
sin to rise above the blighting influence of their 
parents’ guilt. The pathetic struggles of Sidney 
Walton cannot have failed to impress the minds of 
all who have read this story. In the darkness of incre- 
dulity, as well as in the fierce light of certitude, his 
struggles have been, not so much with his own temp- 
tations — not so much with his own inclinations to do 
wrong — as with that remote and bloody crime com- 
mitted by his father ten years before the son was 
born. How fierce the struggle, how noble and grand 
the victory, you already know. Master now of Du- 
vall Glen, the happy husband of the heiress, the sole 
survivor of all the -Duvalls, he sees from the veranda 
of his palatial home the broken column rising above 
the grave of Prentiss Duvall, the unfortunate victim 
of his father’s rage. At first the sight pained him, 
but, secure in Eva’s love, almost worshipped by his 
children, honored and respected by Mrs. Duvall, he 
has no time, no cause for painful reflections. Vic- 


THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 


425 


torious in ‘*The Battle of Life/’ he yet wears his 
honors easily and gracefully as one to the manor 
born.” 

The beginning and ending of this story is a truth- 
ful history of a true man ; a gentleman under all cir- 
cumstances. Such, kind reader, is the man, such 
the story of his life. Let the moral remain, even 
though the hero should be forgotten, for the truth is 
better and greater than the noblest of our race, 
grander than the world’s greatest heroes, than our 
own hero, Sidney Walton. 





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